Light Me Up
by neahcampbells
Summary: Following the death of his father and his mother's suicide, CEO Zeref Dragneel comes back to Fiore to look after his mourning brother Natsu. Enter Mavis Vermillion, amnesiac cousin of Lucy Heartfilia and college senior with issues of her own. To make matters worse, Zeref and Natsu's parents were keeping secrets, secrets which have been haunting Zeref his whole life… HIATUS
1. Meeting Mavis

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail. All rights go to Hiro Mashima._

 _Rating: M. Triggers throughout the story will be limited to death, alcohol, sex (not explicit) and self-harm._

* * *

 _Light Me Up_

 _Summary:_ Following the death of his father and his mother's suicide, CEO Zeref Dragneel comes back to Fiore to look after his mourning brother Natsu. Enter Mavis Vermillion, amnesiac cousin of Lucy Heartfilia and college senior with issues of her own. To make matters worse, Zeref and Natsu's parents were keeping secrets, secrets which have been haunting Zeref his whole life…

* * *

 _Meeting Mavis_

The phone call wakes him up.

Three hours, a grief-stricken shower and a quick call to Inbel later, Zeref is on the first plane to Crocus. The airport is fully decorated for Christmas, and it sends a pang through his chest because this trip is two weeks too soon, and he feels like killing himself.

But then that is nothing new.

The plane ride to Magnolia is brief, a mere sixty minutes spent staring at the pages of the novel he had brought along for show. The arrival gate is close to empty—justified, given that it is almost midnight. He almost rents a car, but he knows he is in no state to drive. Too exhausted to mind, he gets a cab.

The backseat is clean enough, Zeref supposes. It smells like cigarette smoke, which tends to make him lightheaded. There is no helping it, though; the hour is late and he cannot afford to be picky. He feels tense and fidgety. He had done nothing all day, too upset to work and too wound-up to sleep. Worrying about how Natsu and Mom were taking the news had frayed his nerves. Mom's phone call had been nothing more than an announcement; she had told him that his dad was dead, speaking in a weak, breathless voice he had not recognized at first.

"It was a hit-and-run. An accident. Just an accident…"

His heart had skipped a beat, hysteria rising up in his throat. His dad could not have been dead. Not dead. Dad was too stubborn to die. Zeref had not spent enough time with him yet, had barely talked to him all year, so how come he could just _die_? But his mom's broken voice did not lie.

As for Natsu, he had not answered any of Zeref's calls. It makes him worry because Natsu is reckless and willful, and grief makes people do stupid things.

It is pitch black, but Zeref stares outside the window anyway. He watches the shadows, trying to match his memories to the outlines rushing by, until he becomes dizzy. It is a short while later that the cab stops at the gate. A quick ID check later, they are allowed inside by the guard.

The first thing he notices is the cold. The second is the snow falling around him, painting a scene that would have been quite charming had he seen it any other time. He pays the driver, staring up at his childhood home. It is unchanged, a pillared two-storied house that is all sloping lines, big windows and balconies, all done in unpractical cream and white. There are no lights on inside, and he wonders why.

"Please come home, Zeref. Please come…"

He has. After sixteen hours of travelling, Zeref is finally home.

Ignoring the snow and the happy memories, Zeref makes his way inside. He deposits his half-empty suitcase in his childhood bedroom—pristine even after two years of his absence, thanks to his mother's careful hand—and makes for his parents' room.

He knocks, garnering no answer from inside. Sighing, he cracks open the door. His mother appears to be lying under the covers, sleeping. He is both surprised and relieved, and even though he hates to wake her up, she needs to know he has arrived. In the morning they will talk, but right now he needs to reassure her that he will—

The smell hits him like ten thousand bricks, as if he has gotten slammed against an invisible wall. Instead of brick and mortar, however, there is a rotten, pungent smell cloying its way up his nose, into his mouth and down his throat. He can feel it, taste it on his tongue, like a thick coat of everything unpleasant he has ever eaten and then some.

Zeref feels the bile rise in his throat. He has not eaten all day so there is not much to vomit, but he is still left dry-heaving on the white, now yellow-stained carpet. Trembling, he crawls out of the room and shuts the door behind him, his sole goal to get away from the smell. It is useless, though: now that he is aware of it, it is inescapable. Maybe it had been faint enough upon his arrival, but now he feels like it permeates the house, and he cannot breathe.

Hands shaking, Zeref takes his phone out of his jacket, flips and dials.

"This is 911, how can I help you?" His mouth opens on its own, but his voice refuses to come out. "Is there anyone there?"

"Yes," Zeref coughs out. "My mother…" he says.

"Is your mother alright, sir?"

"No, no she's not. _No_ , she's _not_." The smell, Zeref knows, can only mean one thing. He has never seen a dead body before, has never even seen or smelled roadkill in his life, but there is nothing else it can be.

"What's your address, sir?"

"67 Freesia, Magnolia Heights 3316. She's dead. I can't believe she's dead."

"The police are on their way, sir."

"But she's dead. She's dead, you know…"

"Please calm down, sir."

Zeref takes a deep breath, feels the burn of the stench swirling around him. He hangs up without any preamble, disregarding the operator.

"I'm calm," he whispers in an effort to convince himself.

Zeref almost breaks the doorknob in his attempt to open it. He stumbles to the edge of the bed as best he can, his eyes fixed on the form under the covers, on the hint of black hair peeking out. The smell is stronger, of course, the closer he gets to the body, but he has to see. His fingers caress the fluffy white comforter. Tears come to his eyes. How many times had he crawled into this bed as a child because Natsu had had a nightmare, and he had thought Zeref would be lonely sleeping by himself?

Breathing is made harder by the lump in his throat. The smell is driving him mad, to the point that he is half sure he will throw up again, food or no. Steeling himself, he gathers the covers and throws them off the bed.

And he sees her. His mother is unrecognizable from the last time Zeref had laid eyes on her, three months ago during dad's birthday. She had been as vibrant as always, but now her black hair looks limp and her skin is a sickening pinkish-purple. Her hands are blue, her nails white as paper, and she is rigid, rigor mortis in full swing. Her facial features are all grotesquely presented: her face is bony, her cheeks are hollow and her jaw is too sharp. Her eyes are closed, but instead of her signature white, today her nightgown is black.

Zeref has always looked like her, and the most horrifying thing of all is that he can see himself in this lifeless corpse. This, he knows, is what he would have looked like had he ever drunk the lethal dose of liquid Nembutal he had gotten his hands on four years ago.

Now numb, he can hear the wailing of a siren in the distance. Before he closes the door behind him, he spots a wine glass on the bedside table next to a small, white bottle of pills. The noise grows louder, and as he steps out of his childhood home, he can see the neighbors peeking out from behind window drapes, curious faces from people he has known most of his life.

As the cruiser comes to a halt in front of the house, two policemen spring out. One looks at him. "Upstairs," Zeref says, leading them inside. Soon, Zeref knows, the paramedics will arrive.

As one of the officers performs CPR on his mother's corpse, Zeref knows the Nembutal will offer him no comfort now. Perhaps the second officer can see the murderous glint in his eyes; not a second later, the murder investigation begins.

* * *

Over twenty-four hours after the first phone call, a second one wakes him up.

After the ambulance had come and the paramedics had gone—taking his mother with them—Zeref had checked into a hotel. When sleep had proved impossible, he had swallowed two sleeping pills and drifted off.

Zeref flips the phone open, half expecting to hear his mother's voice.

Instead, Natsu's blares out. "Zeref! How are you?"

"Natsu." Zeref is confused. Shocked, really. He had expected anger and aggressive denial from Natsu, not forced cheerfulness. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am. How many times did you call yesterday?" There is laughter in the background on the other side of the line.

Suspicious, Zeref says, "I don't know, Natsu. Why didn't you pick up?" He makes his voice as light as possible, but mentally replies twenty-six. Normal people do not obsessively know such things, of course, but Zeref does.

"I had my biochem final today, so I gave Mavis my phone yesterday."

"Mavis?" The very name brings forth muted irritation.

"Yeah, _Mavis_ , Zeref. Luce's cousin? You've met Luce," he says, his tone accusing.

"I have," he says. He comes up with an image of a blonde—very pretty, very smart, kind of not his type because Zeref does not have a type. "So how long did she have it for?" he asks, a feeling of dread settling in his chest.

Natsu considers. "Don't know. A day and a half? Maybe longer."

"I see," Zeref says, deadpan. A day and a half means Natsu does not know about their dad. A day and a half means he does not know about their mom _or_ dad. It is one thing to tell his brother their mother is dead. It is quite another to say that both of their parents are gone. Nonetheless, the words almost leave his mouth, but the memory of his mom's disembodied voice stops him. He can say it, he knows he can, but he does not want to. He does not want to think about Natsu falling to pieces in a crowded place, all alone, and the one thing he can do to prevent that is to be there to break the news.

Zeref knows Natsu does not need to be babied, but knowing does not equal acceptance. The one constant in his life has always been to think about Natsu first, for whatever reason, and he is powerless to change it.

There is a long pause before Natsu speaks, sounding worried. "Why? Are you mad? Honestly, Mavis had nothing to do with it and I asked her to take it. I swear, it's better that way. You _know_ I have no self-control. Don't blame her, it's my fault." Of course, Zeref thinks irritably, that Natsu's first thought would be to worry about his opinion of a girl he has never even met. Before he can protest, however, Natsu barrels on, as if he is afraid Zeref will not let him finish, "You're still coming home for Christmas, right? You shouldn't work so much. _Please_ , come home."

Zeref grimaces. He almost says something about how he will most _certainly_ be in Fiore for Christmas this year, but stops himself. It is his grief making him impulsive, but he does not have time for grief yet. Later, he will mourn. Later, he will allow his frayed nerves to rest. Later, he will remember his mother's face and let himself cry, but for these precious few hours, Natsu needs to come first.

Throwing off the covers, he slides out of bed and answers. "No, I'm not mad, Natsu. I'm in Magnolia right now."

"In Magnolia? Not Crocus?"

"No. Listen, I thought you were in Magnolia already, but I can be at Crocus by…" he picks up his watch from the night table, "six. Should I just drop by your apartment?"

"No, some of the girls are acting in a play so everyone's going to go."

Zeref holds off the urge to scream that he does not care, and says, "That's really great, Natsu, but I need to talk to you. It's urgent." He means for it to sound understanding, but it ends up sounding sarcastic.

"I know. I know that if you're here, it _must_ be, okay? I know, but over here we're _finally_ done with finals and Lucy would be upset if I didn't go. She's acting in the play and she's put a lot of work into it."

The mention of Lucy makes him reconsider. Dad is almost two days dead by now, and Natsu deserves to know as soon as possible. The press is also a problem; he had told Inbel to keep them quiet when they got a hold of the story, but for how long will he be able to? On the other hand, Christmas is ruined one way or another, and there is no harm in letting Natsu enjoy one last afternoon without the label of orphanhood hanging over his head.

"Are you still there?" Natsu's voice breaks him out of his thoughts. His face twists into a pained smile. It is just like him to get lost in his thoughts like this.

"When would you be back?" He goes to his suitcase. The clothes inside are rumpled, but wool never wrinkles and there is one button down that has survived the trip. Zeref bites back a curse when he sees that he had, in fact, packed three pairs of pants, and only one of them is not part of a suit. How he had managed to mix them up says much about his mental state yesterday morning.

"Eight? There's an after-party, but it's okay if I don't go to that. So, can I go?"

The question makes his spine crawl. Such an innocent question, three little words he will never ask their parents again. "You don't need to ask me that, Natsu. If it's important, go. Should I wait for you in your apartment or do you want to meet me somewhere else?"

Natsu's reply is predictably devious. "Or, you know, you could come to the performance so you could meet Mav—"

Zeref's is just as swift, let alone brutal. "If _one_ more person tries to set me up with this girl _one_ more time, I will disembowel them." Mirajane had been very vocal in her belief that the two would make a "delightful" couple. Other people had been curious about why he avoided her but had soon dropped the topic. Natsu, however, had been the most persistent of them all, to the point that Zeref had not had a conversation with his brother without the mention of the ever-mythical Mavis since the day he had met Lucy Heartilia and her disquieting cousin.

Frankly, Zeref does not have the time for it right now.

"Woah, alright." The noise level from Natsu's side increases before it tapers off. Zeref assumes he had left the room, which he takes as a good sign. "It's not like you to get so upset."

"I'm sorry, Natsu." No, he is not, but Natsu does not need to know that. "I don't know how else to tell you, and actually get through to you, that I have no interest in dating her."

"Seriously, I get that you don't want me setting you up with anyone, but why can't you at least meet her? What's so wrong with wanting you to meet my friends?"

"I _do_ know your friends—" He does not get far before Natsu cuts him off.

"Yes, you do. You just don't know Mavis. She's the only one you haven't met." Zeref is skeptical, considering he knows very few of them.

"Natsu, I don't need to know all of your friends. What do you want, my seal of approval? Your friends are your friends, and I don't care that she's Lucy's cousin." Zeref rolls his eyes at referring to the girl with such familiarity, but her name comes up often enough that he feels it is counter-productive to keep her at arm's length.

"Fine," Natsu says. "You still could come if you wanted to, but I'll be there at eight if it's this important to you. You have a key?"

"I do," he says, relieved that Natsu has let the topic drop, at least for now.

"Great," Natsu says before he hangs up.

Zeref stares at his phone for a second, questioning if the spoiled brat is worth this much worry.

Sighing, he heads for the shower, because he is.

* * *

Magnolia is five hours away from Crocus by car. Zeref rents the same model he drives in Alvarez, but this one is black as opposed to navy blue. Much to his chagrin, it is a Heartfilia Konzern.

He had called Inbel first thing. It seems he is having a fabulously awful time keeping the news of his parents' deaths off the news. Zeref is hot stuff right now, with the launch of Tartaros only a week behind. Critics and gamers alike had fallen in love with it, and the press likes his pretty face, so no one complains. Except, of course, for the dozens of companies he had bankrupted almost five years ago: Zeref had broken into the tech scene with a startup and a 3D TV that eschewed glasses, doubled as a computer and tripled as a gaming console. Understandably, they do not like him, but who cares about them _anyway_?

He had called a professional house cleaner to take care of his childhood home, and returned a call from Sol Lockser, his parents' lawyer. The rest of the drive is spent listening to a generic mix of rock and pop in an attempt to dull his racing thoughts.

Zeref stops by a department store—because he has no _pants_ —but otherwise drives straight to Natsu's apartment. It is well past dark by then, and it is getting colder once again, but for now his wool sweater suffices. Natsu's apartment had been a generous gift from Zeref this last August. It has three bedrooms, but his brother lives with his nudist of roommate and Zeref suspects Lucy will be crashing in the third one tonight. As a result, he had already booked a room in a nearby hotel.

The living room is pristine, which is unexpected. So is the kitchen, though, and that makes him wary. Much to his amazement, the two bathrooms are also spotless. Zeref is, by self-admission, a clean freak, and yet he doubts he would have kept this place so clean during finals week. He ponders whether Gray cleans by way of procrastination, and scoffs at how convenient that must be for his slob of a brother.

Whatever the case, Zeref supposes, it is not his problem. He is less impressed with the kitchen's extreme pristineness when he finds that the sole edible thing in the room is a bottle of Icebergian vodka he can tell is expensive, and Zeref guesses is Gray's. Checking the time, he decides to hold off on dinner. Natsu will arrive in half an hour, maybe one; he can wait.

Eyeing the 3D TV in the living room, he decides to work on storyline over coding, reasoning that storyline would be more soothing. It keeps him so engrossed that by the time he is done with the general worldbuilding, Zeref feels sick and thinks that perhaps he should order in without Natsu. It is with some horror that he realizes he has eaten just a muffin during a span of two days. He looks at the screen of his laptop, the brightness now making his eyes hurt, only to see 10:16 PM innocuously hiding in the corner.

At first he is confused. His screen must be lying, but a glance at his watch says otherwise. Battling down his dissapointment, he reaches for his phone. When there is no answer, he grits his teeth and slams the laptop closed. His first thought is to leave and check into his hotel. His second thought is to leave altogether, hop on a plane and never see his inconsiderate brat of a brother ever again. His third is to not be so unreasonable; after all, Natsu does not know why Zeref needs to talk to him, and he should have told him on the phone, so it is his own fault. His fourth is the bottle of Nembutal, oh-so-tempting now that it is so far away.

Giving up on that train of thought, his eyes dart to the fridge, chilled vodka sitting inside.

Hell, he will buy Gray a full bottle later. No sooner has he found a glass, he unclasps the bottle and throws back his first shot. The liquor burns down his throat, familiar, and Zeref wonders if perhaps he will find some Xanax around, wonders if his mother had felt so deranged when she had swallowed a bottleful of ibuprofen and washed it down with dad's favorite wine.

Instead of looking, though, Zeref pours himself another shot. By the third he is lightheaded. By the fourth, drunk. There is no visible change in him: he is not one to stumble and his words do not get slurred. Zeref's drunken self is much like his sober self, but it is less sarcastic, quieter and a pathological liar at times. Amusingly, when he was younger, a good portion of his homework got done in between the first shot and the moment his hangover hit. On their last day as freshmen, he and Laxus had shared a bottle of Minstrelian Scotch Jellal had sent him. To this day, Zeref credits it with the base of the gaming console add-on to Jellal's Objective-C code. He always remembers what he does when he is drunk, but to say he is aware of what he is doing while he is doing it would be… false.

Like now. He has half a mind to start coding—it being what he spends most of his time doing while drunk—but he does not feel like it. What he _does_ feel like doing involves a girl and a bed, perhaps a wall.

But there are other things to think about: Natsu will have to come back at some point. Inbel will not keep the press in check for much longer. It is a testament to how powerful Ethereas has become in the span of five years that the news have been hushed for so long.

Zeref is pacing when he hears the main door be cracked open. He is both vexed and relieved that Natsu is here, albeit three hours late. He drinks down another shot for good measure and strides into the living room, expecting to see Natsu's pink-haired form passed out on the couch. Of course, it can always be someone else—Gray, Lucy, even Juvia, but he does not expect what he finds.

The girl's head is peeking from behind the side of the door so that it is tilted, and her long hair spills besides it in soft waves, what looks to be the result of a night out dancing. She is pale, but it is a good kind of pale, and instead of looking drawn, her face looks dewy fresh. She has green eyes—not that he can tell, because she is not looking at him. Instead, she chooses to favor the wooden floors with them.

When she does look up at him, it hits him that she has the brightest doe eyes he has ever seen. The blush on her cheeks does not help either. It is endearing, but if asked why that is so, Zeref would have been hard-pressed to give an answer. He has never found blushing girls attractive, but this one is looking at him with determination. He has never found such a thing attractive either, until now.

The girl bites her lip and looks around, as if she wants to make sure no one else is nearby before she comes inside, closing the door behind her and leaning against it.

She is pretty, a slip of a girl with long legs and too much cleavage for the dress she is wearing. Technically, it is a dress because a dress is anything that goes from the shoulders to the top of a girl's legs and does not end in pants. Not so technically, it is a halter-top that covers her breasts, crisscrosses over her back, and leaves her midriff bare before smoothing over her thighs.

The dress is red, her hair is blonde, and she looks like sin.

She gazes at him from underneath her eyelashes, head angled _just_ _so,_ and gives him a teasing smile. It is a look Zeref recognizes; he uses it on women every day because it makes anyone even mildly attracted to him melt. She pushes herself off the door, and he cannot help but follow the movement of her hips. Also cannot help but notice that with her hands clasped behind her and her shoulders back, she looks less like a slip and more like a doll.

She raises one of her arms towards him, hand extended. She has very pretty fingers, Zeref notices surreally, because there is so _much_ to notice about her. When he does not make a move to grasp her hand, she takes a step towards him. She almost stumbles against the wall, but he makes it a point to catch her.

Zeref had been right—the dress crisscrosses over her back, leaving most of it bare. Her skin is cool and soft. She smells like something sweet, though he cannot name the scent off the top of his head. Even in heels, she is half a head shorter than him. Nonetheless, looking down at her brings him close to her face. There are alarm bells going off in his mind, but it is so easy to ignore them.

She makes things worse when she places one of her hands on his face, her thumb tracing his jaw, her touch making him shiver. "Zeref, right?" She speaks in a low, smooth voice that incites him to relax even as her words give him pause.

"Yeah," he murmurs. He has nothing to say, all words having been stolen from him by this crazy girl.

Her hands go to his collar, pull. "I thought you didn't want to meet me?" She breathes more than whispers the words. When she speaks, her lips brush against his. She looks at him from under her lashes again, but this time she gives him a brazenly innocent look that says she is playing with him.

"Do you know who I am?" She steps on his toes, bringing herself closer to his height.

Through the haze of want and more than a little annoyance, he manages to say, "Mavis."

Her smirk eases into a satisfied smile. Her hands release his collar, only for one to slide to his neck and the other to fist in his hair. "Good," she says, and brings down his lips to meet hers.


	2. Recovery

_Recovery_

The next morning, Zeref wakes up disoriented, with a splitting headache that tells him he had drunk more than he should have the night before. His body feels alien, slower, and moving proves to be hellish when his muscles all feel like jelly. Although hangovers are nothing out of the ordinary for him, he has never experienced one quite so vicious. Every movement he makes sends a bolt of pain straight through his brain.

He recalls very little of waking up, of stumbling his way to the bathroom. He had thrown up to find blood mixed with sickly yellow and cringed at it, wondering how long it had been since he had eaten anything based on the color alone. There is little blood, though, and his brain is not up for the mental acrobatics needed to figure out what to do about it. He becomes worried, however, when he makes it to what looks to be a kitchen and spots an opened bottle of vodka, almost full. He stares at it as he braces himself against the edge of the table, making note of the label. Zeref glances around the room, expecting to find another discarded bottle somewhere, but finds nothing. He raises the bottle to his eyes but sets it back down again, mindful of his shaking hands.

Unlike Natsu, Zeref had been born a picky eater. The trait had followed him into adolescence, soon to become a problem in college, when he had made it a habit to sit in the dining hall with his friends, picking at his food while everyone else got seconds. It had not been a problem for years, though: one day Brandish had noticed him skipping meal after meal, and she had ever since insisted all their meetings happened over breakfast. It had prompted the rest of his Spriggans to pick apart Zeref's schedule, fighting over who got to eat with him when.

Zeref can feel the hunger in his throat now. He has not felt this sick in a long time, compliments to his screaming subordinates, and everything put together means that he had drunk very little, but had done so on an empty stomach. Being hungry is not his true concern. Rather, it is the _how_ that is worrying. Being hungry enough to expel bodily fluids instead of actual food does not only mean he has not eaten for a good two days, it also means he has not had people squabbling over who got to drag him to the brand new opening of X restaurant in X district of town for X event for two days.

That has not happened even once in four years.

He pushes down the hint of foreboding coiling in his stomach, choosing to instead look around him, hoping to recognize his surroundings. It does not take much effort to figure out what he had been up to the night before, given that he had woken up naked in a strange bed, despite the fact that no sane person would leave their one night stand alone in their apartment. His hangover picks that moment to send a stab of pain to the back of his eyes, perhaps a cosmic reminder that he had promised to drink _responsibly_ after that one girl had tried to suffocate him with a pillow four years ago.

Zeref's eyes drift across the room: the walls are baby blue, the cabinets a dark mahogany. To his disappointment, he finds the fridge empty, the cabinets just as bare. Giving up on looking for any food to dull his headache, he staggers back to the bedroom he had first emerged from, in search of his clothes.

The room is simple but spacious, the bright light of midmorning filtering in through the window. Zeref finds his shirt on the floor by the bed, his pants only a few steps away from it, and puts them on through a series of complicated motions, the result of being far too hungover to keep his balance long enough to do so while standing. Short of breath, Zeref scans the floor for his shoes, finding a pair of black moccasins he almost never bothers to wear because he is always in suits. Tired, he steps into them, surveying the rest of the room for anything he might be leaving behind.

His gaze is drawn to the window by the subtle movement of falling snow. He turns away, Zeref's first instinct being to dismiss such a thing, to blame his hangover and believe it to be a trick of the light. Despite Alvarez being big enough that there are places where it snows, Zeref has never bothered visiting them, much preferring to stay at home in Visterion, working. Nevertheless, he cannot resist looking back outside again, and that is when he notices the Imperial Palace, its highest tower piercing the skyline. While it is not the tallest building in the city, most of the infrastructure around it had remained small and quaint, allowing the citadel to retain its place as the grandest building in the sector. It is a fantastic view, but it makes him yearn for the days Ever would drag him and Freed around the city while she spoke about Crocus' architecture.

The nostalgia only lasts so long, however, and the next second the sharp edge of fear slices its way down his spine like death's fingers raking down on his door. Zeref should not be in Crocus and he knows it. He had refused to come back to the city for years, coaxing friends to visit him at his expense, convincing them they needed breaks or promising he could introduce them to someone or other. In all that time he had never considered returning, afraid of the weight the city would push on him—the memories and responsibilities of a seventeen-year-old who had tried his best to cling onto life by leaving everything behind.

He hears the soft ringing of his phone then, almost as if prompted by his sudden realization. Zeref sweeps out of the bedroom and heads for the living room, aided by the newfound clarity—and worry—the sight of the Crocus skyline has inspired in him. The ever-insisting pounding in his head beats along his pulse as his hands seek the wall for support; somehow, the effort makes the burn in his stomach worse, reminding him that he is both hungover and dehydrated, maybe hungry enough to faint.

It takes him much longer than it usually would have: he keeps getting dizzy, and is therefore forced to slump against the walls in order to breathe every minute or so. By the time he makes it to the living room, the phone has long stopped ringing. He lurches towards it with the last of his strength, where he spots it lying on the floor. Zeref's breath is heavy as he fishes it out from under the coffee table. Conscientious of his stomach, he lies down on the couch instead of collapsing on top of it. He had broken out into a cold sweat earlier, and the clammy feeling of foreboding has not yet left him. He suspects it will not leave, though, because there are very few things that could have brought him back to Fiore, and one of them is death.

Flipping open the phone, he finds his voicemail full, over fifty messages from Sol Lockser. Zeref presses his lips together, a frown forming on his face. He has nothing against Mr. Lockser, but the man has little reason to call him. His thumb is hovering over the call button when another call comes in, the screen flashing Inbel's name.

There is a short silence when he answers, but Zeref is impatient enough that he prompts him forward with, "Yes?"

"You answered." Inbel sighs. "Finally, thank you."

"I'm sorry. Have you been calling for long?" By _you_ he means the Spriggans as a whole. He likes referring to them as a group when they are fussing over him, given that such occasions are the only times they agree on anything.

"For some time," he says. "The news broke this morning. They may be delayed in Fiore, however, with the plane crash. Have you gotten in contact with your brother yet?"

Zeref runs a hand through his hair, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "I'm hungover and I have no idea where I am so no, probably not. I'm sorry this is such an awkward way to ask, but did someone die?" Zeref expects his words to be sharp, of course, but not as bitter as they come out. It is the kind of sharp, blindsiding retort he had used with frequency as a child when he had been upset, before he had learned he can get his way more often with a smile and a compliment than with the sharp tongue he had been blessed with. He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, all too aware of how much Inbel does not deserve Zeref snapping at him like so. "I'm sorry. I'm not doing well today."

"It's fine, I understa—"

Zeref cuts him off before he can finish. His headache has receded a good deal but he does not have the energy for platitudes. He hopes Inbel will not mind. "Which one died?" Zeref had known yesterday because surely he had been the one to inform Inbel, and yet his memory has been rendered a mere shade of itself. He remembers bits of the last day, and maybe the day before that too, but there is not enough to piece together a coherent image. It is the result of trauma, grief and a hangover working in tandem. The last thing he remembers is sending Dimaria an email about her game development team before going to bed, and unless the date on his phone is wrong, that had been two days ago.

"Your father died in an accident and your mother… well," Inbel pauses, allowing Zeref time to imagine the worst case scenarios: pills, overdoses, slashed wrists dyeing bathwater red, bullets and guns. He shakes the thoughts away, certain his mother would never—

"She committed suicide."

It says a lot about how close he is to a meltdown that he just laughs at that; it seems that the suicidal tendencies within their family had not been unique to Zeref.

A moment of fury, a flash of hurt, and the tears start to fall on their own. He goes from incredulous to hurt, to sad, to angry and again—all in less than a second. A part of him does not want to believe it, but another side of him whispers that it makes a disturbing amount of sense. Had she known what she was doing? Had she cared about what she was leaving behind? Or had she been so far gone that she had taken her own life in a moment of madness?

Had his mother loved him at all?

His voice is cold when he next speaks, no trace of the tears running down his face. "Natsu doesn't know?" he asks.

"No, I don't believe so," Inbel says, his voice panicked. "We might want to wait until—"

"I'll find him, don't worry." Zeref ends the call without a goodbye.

He thinks about shutting off the phone completely, but he has not eaten a thing. He has no internet signal outside of Alvarez to look for the phone number of a proper restaurant that can deliver something light enough for his stomach to handle at present. The one phone number he remembers is an old one from his favorite pizza joint from five years ago. He orders a small size, knowing eating something is better than nothing, even if it _is_ pizza.

Zeref can now recognize the room around him, even spots one of Mirajane's paintings hanged on the far wall. He had brought this apartment for Natsu half a year ago, and sooner or later his brother will have to come home.

There is no need to go looking for him.

* * *

Time, Zeref decides hours later, is fickle.

He had taken a shower and raided Natsu's closet, finishing by the time the pizza arrived. It had been better than he had expected and worse than he recalled—a reminder that he has been getting more and more fickle of late. Understandable, given that now he can more than afford it, but it still makes him sad.

The rest of the time is spent staring out the window as if the landscape beyond will give him answers. Hours of effort have yielded little results: his memories are still a jumbled mess of impressions, with the image of tangled blond hair around his hands providing a horrifying contrast to the memory of his mother's, lank and dull like he had never seen it before.

There had been a girl, Zeref is sure, but does she matter at a time like this?

By the time Natsu arrives, Zeref can see a mosaic of lights outside the window, lighting up a sky that has gone pitch dark. He feels weak and feverish, and in the back of his mind he knows he is in no condition to speak to his brother about such a devastating topic as their parents' deaths.

Regardless, Natsu steps through the front door to find a scowling Zeref waiting for him. There is a lecture on the tip of his tongue up until he sees the cast on Natsu's arm, an ugly white that reminds him of the times he had visited his dad at the hospital while he was working. There is a piece of Zeref that is irrationally mad at seeing something so strange when he is already more than done with everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, but there is another, far more gentle part that demands he be concerned.

Zeref rushes forward, tripping over his feet to stand in front of Natsu. He examines his face for all of two seconds, and sees the surprise in Natsu's eyes before he pulls him in for a hug. He had been prepared to scream and scold until his lungs gave out, but there is no questioning the relief he feels at seeing Natsu _alive_ ; alive and well, unlike their parents; alive, perhaps a little worse for wear, but alive nonetheless.

"You're okay," Zeref whispers while Natsu nods into Zeref's shoulder. Much, Zeref recalls, like he had done as a child, the ghosts of memories brushing against his heart.

Zeref pulls back, grasping at Natsu's shoulders, half afraid his brother will keel over and die if he does not hold on. One of Zeref's hands rises to touch the bandage wrapped around Natsu's head. He looks at Natsu, asking for an explanation.

Natsu looks at his feet, a sure sign that he is planning to lie. "Just hit my head."

"And the arm?" Zeref says, ready to be patient.

"Fell down some stairs. It's really not a big deal. Don't worry, I'm fine." Natsu's voice sounds weak and subdued, even if Zeref takes into account that he may have a concussion. Zeref is about to ask about it when he spots the flash of gold from the corner of his eye, and as the dread settles in his stomach, he wonders if his day can get any worse.

Standing behind Natsu is a girl, her long blond hair held up in a haphazard bun. It frames her face in an attractive way, Zeref thinks, but there are dark bruises underneath her eyes that ruin any semblance of her prettiness. She looks pale and tired, and seeing her standing by the door brings back memories of the night before. She had stood on that same spot, then wearing a red dress, looking at him like she had a fight to pick. Her eyes meet his, and maybe she is thinking of the same things because she looks away, her bangs covering part of her face.

"He was in an accident," Mavis says. Zeref can feel Natsu stiffen next to him at the sound of her voice, hollow and quiet in the sudden silence. He cannot look away from Mavis, her appearance small and fragile. "The car crashed into a tree," she continues, "and the doctor released him today. Sorry, he spent the night at the hospital…" She raises her head to give him a sad look that looks an awful lot like chagrin. "He should be resting." He suspects she tries to smile but it comes across as a grimace.

His voice is gone but he speaks anyway, his throat raspy enough he has to clear it. "Was anyone else… injured?" It is the polite thing to ask, fake concern bleeding through his voice.

Perhaps Mavis can see that on his face. She has an intimidating glare for someone so small, but Zeref shakes it off. It is not that he does not care at all, but there is only so much Zeref can worry about at once. Zeref's emotions are already frayed thin, distress and worry driving him to exhaustion. He cannot afford to grieve someone else because Natsu needs to come _first_.

"Juvia's not doing very well," Mavis says.

The knowledge gives him pause: Zeref had never been close to Juvia, but he does consider her a friend. She is not like Evergreen or Aquarius—not someone to call at midnight because he cannot sleep—but she is Natsu's oldest friend.

That is alive, anyway.

"Mavis, please," Natsu says. Zeref turns to look at him, surprised to see guilt on his face, but Natsu is facing Mavis, not him. "I'll explain, but you should get back to Lucy."

Mavis steps forward, her hand touching Natsu's arm, and Zeref almost hisses at her for it. "You can do whatever you need to do tomorrow," Mavis murmurs before turning to pin Zeref with her eyes, sounding more disappointed than angry, "but now he needs to rest."

Natsu opens his mouth to reply, but Zeref interrupts before he can say a word. "I'll make sure he's alright." He means it to be a sign of peace, an apology of sorts.

Mavis seems to be somewhat mollified at his words, but Zeref is just glad she has stopped looking at him like he has killed a butterfly. "He hasn't had dinner," she sighs, "I'll be back. The groceries are in my car."

She drops her hand inside her bag, rummaging for her keys. Zeref's eyes drift to Natsu, who gives him a pointed look.

"What?" Zeref mouths. Natsu's face morphs into the picture of incredulity.

"Leave the door open," Mavis says as she places her bag on the coffee table.

Zeref purses his lips, fully aware of _what_. Using grudging chivalry as a medium for matchmaking is _dirty_ , but Natsu does not seem to care. "I'll come with."

This time it is Mavis who gives him a very displeased look. "Oh, you don't have to."

Looking at Natsu from the corner of his eye, one eyebrow raised in a mocking manner, it is obvious he _does_ have to. "I insist."

She stands motionless before giving him a tight smile, whispering her okay. The last thing Zeref sees before closing the door behind him is Natsu's half-worried, half-pleased face. He wonders how Lucy is, how bad her injuries must be for Natsu to be in such a mood.

The ride to the parking lot is brief but awkward, given that they do not even have the luck to share it with a third person. Zeref spends it staring at the wooden panels of the elevator, but he suspects Mavis does the same. After all, Zeref does not want to talk about the night before, and judging by the deafening silence coming from her, neither does she.

She drives a silver Celestial—small, compact, fast but not flashy; one of those silent cars that are all soft lines and get advertised to girls. It fits her, but Zeref does not think she would appreciate the comparison. She pulls up the lid of the trunk with ease and then hands him one of the two grocery bags inside. It is light, he notices, much lighter than her own, which appears to be full.

"Here, I'll take that." He holds out his free hand for the other bag, concerned. Mavis had been shuffling rather than walking while they were making their way to her car. She looks exhausted.

"It's fine," Mavis says, taciturn. She pulls down the lid and locks the car again, not looking at him once.

He deliberates between leaving her alone and insisting. "I can carry it. It's no—" Now she looks at him over her shoulder, her glare so cold his words die in his throat. It makes him glad he had not asked about Lucy in the elevator, as he had been planning to earlier. He also thinks it is hot, though, but he should not be thinking about that.

Zeref trails behind her as she makes her way back to the lobby. The elevator ride back to their floor is just as quiet as the ride down, the silence suffocating him. He follows her to the kitchen, resigned. Zeref sets his bag down on the kitchen isle, next to her own, and starts unpacking what is inside. She had brought yogurt, eggs and an assortment of vegetables she is already washing. The last thing to go in the fridge is a box of strawberries.

Zeref wonders if she had picked them up by chance or if she knows Natsu has a soft spot for them. He guesses the latter, based on the way Natsu speaks of her. Zeref can even see why Natsu likes her as he watches her busy herself around the kitchen. Mavis looks out of place in such a domestic place, but still she moves like she knows what she is doing. He can see her as a pragmatist: he imagines she does not bother complaining about the things she knows she has to do. There is no way he can know that from seeing her dice tomatoes, of course, but she is more than pretty enough that she is easy to romanticize.

And Zeref is jealous—so jealous of both her and Lucy because they know Natsu well, too well, and maybe they know him better than Zeref himself.

"I'll check up on Natsu," Zeref tells her. Her sole response is a nod, as he expects, and he takes that as a dismissal.

* * *

He makes his way to Natsu's room and knocks twice before he decides talking to Natsu is more important than any wishes for privacy his brother might have.

The room is bathed in shadows, the only light coming from a small nightlight by Natsu's bed. He can see the silhouette of a desk to the side, binders and notebooks scattered on it, books piled on the floor to make a column higher than the desk itself. Natsu is lying on the bed, holding up a picture frame with his good hand. Zeref cannot see his expression from where he is standing, but Natsu does not seem to notice him.

"Sorry for coming in like this," he whispers, breaking the silence.

Natsu jumps at his voice. "That's fine," his brother says, in a voice just as quiet as Zeref's. He is about to speak when Natsu continues, "Remember when this was taken?" He offers Zeref the silver frame, using his left arm on account of his cast. Zeref takes it from him, curious.

It is a family picture, a candid shot Juvia had taken two years ago during her phase as an amateur photographer. In the picture, Igneel has one of his arms around Zeref's shoulders, a broad grin stretching across his face to match Zeref's own. Natsu leans against Zeref's other side, giving the camera his profile and looking into it in a manner he must have imagined would look sultry but in reality makes him look as if he is in pain. To the side, his mother stands laughing, clutching her stomach with one hand and holding a wine glass with the other. The lens had been trained on Zeref when it was taken, so he is by far the sharpest person in the shot. Everyone else looks artfully blurred, more of a lucky coincidence than a testament of Juvia's skill—after all, she had dropped the hobby for a reason, and Juvia's true calling will always lie with STEM subjects.

"Dad and his jokes," Zeref mumbles, recalling why their mom had been laughing back then. He hands back the frame, hoping Natsu will show some sign of amusement, even if it is forced.

"It seems like it happened a long time ago," Natsu breathes out.

Zeref hesitates, wondering how to broach the topic of their parents. "Time has been going a lot faster lately, I think."

Natsu does not look at him. "Maybe." He shrugs. "You've been gone for some time. Things are different." He turns to look at Zeref now, green eyes far too hard for Zeref's liking.

Zeref sits on the bed, resignation weighing on his chest. He feels tired, but this is not the time to give into fatigue. "Have you seen the news today?" Zeref asks, trying to convince himself that he has not.

Natsu's voice is neutral, devoid of any emotion. "You haven't come home in two years. Of course this would be the only thing you'd come back for."

Zeref looks away. He has never felt guilty for leaving, but now he comes close. "I didn't want you to find out that way. I'm sorry." Zeref's apology makes nothing better and he knows it.

There is a brief silence, and although Zeref is tempted to sneak a glance at Natsu for an inkling of his brother's reaction, he refrains from doing so. "You should have told me." Natsu's voice is just as calm as before. "It would have been better."

"Mom told me over the phone," Zeref tilts his head up, examining the ceiling—not very interesting, he concludes. "Or I think so, anyway. Can't quite remember." When Natsu does not reply, he goes on, "What happened? The night before?"

"Mavis told you already." Zeref hears Natsu shuffling, scooting until the two are sitting side by side on the bed. "I ended up going to the party. I mean, I thought you could wait a little longer." Natsu slumps his shoulders. "I just..." Making a frustrated noise, he says, "Zeref, I thought you were coming _back_." His voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, urging Zeref to turn around.

Zeref wraps his arms around him when Natsu leans on him. "I knew there was something wrong but—" A sob makes its way out of his throat. "I never thought… I don't… Mom was always so happy, she would have never…" Natsu grips Zeref's shirt with his good hand, tugging at it, as if he does not already have all of Zeref's attention.

Natsu raises his head, allowing Zeref to see his tear-streaked face. He is biting his lip so hard it is bleeding. "Why did she do it?" And Zeref does not have an answer—does not have an answer despite having wished to die for so long. Sometimes people just give up, and Zeref does not know why he is not one of them yet. "Why?" Natsu tugs at his shirt again, this time with more force.

"I'm sorry, Natsu, I tried to get home as soon as I could but she was already…" The words will not leave his mouth.

"Why?" Natsu asks again. The blood is flowing down his chin, trailing down his jawline.

Zeref is frozen, horrified. He does not remember enough to explain things clearly. He wants to curl up and _die_. "I don't know, Natsu. I don't know why she'd do such a thing." He feels tears sliding down his cheeks. They are not tears from grief. Rather, they are panicked, birthed from frustration.

"You don't know?" Natsu's face goes blank before he pushes Zeref away. He is up in the snap of a finger, standing over Zeref. "What do you mean you don't know?" His voice is low but furious. Zeref cannot see his face at this angle, but there is enough light in the room for him to distinguish Natsu's shaking form.

"But you fucking know everything. You left because you were bored, right? You hated this place so much and you couldn't even stand three more years of it before you took off and never spoke to us again." It is an exaggeration, of course: there had been birthdays and holidays Zeref had spent with his family, but the fact remains that he had done everything in his power to stay away from them.

"It wasn't because I was bored." Zeref's hand goes to his shoulder, his fingers tracing the scar found there. It grounds him to the here and now, reminding him he is alive.

"Like hell it wasn't." Natsu growls at him. "You and your computers, always traveling around and going to those conferences." He points one accusing finger at Zeref. "You barely came back for Christmas that year."

That had been the year Zeref had met Jellal, but there is no need to remind Natsu of that.

Zeref steps forward, his hand reaching out to Natsu, who slaps it away.

Natsu steps back. "Don't touch me," he bites out.

"You're going to hurt yourself."

"What do you even care?" Natsu leans on the door, his posture defensive.

"I care because I'm your brother and if you get hurt, you're going right back to the hospital," he says. Natsu is about to speak, a spiteful look on his face, when Zeref insists, "How do you think I'd feel if something happened to you right now? With mom and dad dead? I don't know what happened yesterday, Natsu, but I'm just glad you're okay." His voice softens by the end, hoping for Natsu to come to his senses. "Please sit down."

The silence stretches on, the tension building. Natsu looks like he is going to refuse, but in the blink of an eye the fight seems to leave him. He rests the back of his head against the door, his hair covering his face.

"I'm sorry." And just like that, Natsu's voice falls flat again, emotionless neutrality masking whatever he is feeling.

"Natsu, please." Zeref inches closer to him but Natsu moves away.

"I'm fine, okay? I just need some time." He sidesteps Zeref. "I'm not feeling well. Can you tell Mavis I'm not hungry?" He fiddles with the covers, pulling them back and sliding in, fully clothed.

"We need to talk."

"Sure we do, but I'm really tired. I don't want to right now." Natsu pulls the covers over his face. "Tomorrow."

Zeref feels angry. He wants to tell Natsu to stop bottling things up, but he suspects it will not matter. "At least wash up. Your lip…"

"I will. In a sec. I'm just taking a nap. You just… I don't know."

Zeref stands motionless, his anger building. "Did you plan yesterday?" He asks because Natsu sounds like he is lying. He has never been very good at it, and this whole conversation feels like he is caught between another fluked matchmaking attempt and honest grief.

"The crash?" Natsu's voice is muffled through the bright red covers. They look blood red in this lighting, and Zeref thinks of the dragon plushies Natsu used to sleep with each night.

"No," Zeref says. "Her being here." He hesitates. "Mavis?"

"Her roommates graduated last year so she and Lucy crash here from time to time." Natsu pulls the covers back to his neck. "I'm sorry, was she too much trouble? She sobers up really quick most of the time."

Indeed, Natsu had never been a good liar, so when he looks sincere Zeref believes him. "Did something happen?" There is a hint of hope in the question, a lilt that prompts Zeref to look closer at Natsu's face, past the shadows the dim lighting produces. It allows him to see the corner of a smile past dried blood.

"No." Zeref has to clear his throat. "Goodnight."

He feels like there is a hand wrapping around his heart, squeezing it for all it is worth.

"Night," Natsu says, but Zeref does not turn back to look at him as he closes the bedroom door behind him.

"He's lying," Zeref whispers to himself, half angry and half disappointed. "He planned it." It is such a gigantic breach of his confidence that he does not know what to feel. He thinks about what he should do now; if he should let it slide or explain, but the first makes his heart ache and the second, he suspects, will fall on deaf ears.

He does not know for how long he rests there against the door, but soon Mavis' voice startles him. "Are you okay?" He looks up to find her standing by the doorway to the living room.

"I'm fine." He is sure he looks a mess, but that seems so inconsequential now.

She comes closer, appearing concerned. He meets her in the middle. "You should sit down."

He stares at her for all of five seconds, wondering if she is the same person from half an hour ago, before he says, "I'm feeling better now. There's no need." She looks to be on the cusp of protesting, so he goes on, "Natsu doesn't feel like eating right now. I'll make sure he gets breakfast tomorrow." He expects her to leave and take his word for granted. After all, he does not want to keep her longer than necessary.

Mavis frowns. She reaches out to him, her hand brushing against his forehead. "Maybe you should go to the hospital too." She is so close now, close enough that he can kiss her if he wants to. He tells himself he should not, but he keeps staring at her lips as they move. "You should take better care of yourself."

Zeref gives an amused sigh as he steps back from her. There is nothing funny about her words, but he cannot do anything but laugh them off. "I'll be fine. How's Lucy?" It is an abrupt topic change if he has ever seen one, but she is now flushed and looking at the floor, all too aware of what she had been doing.

"She's stable." Mavis gives him a grateful look, the blush slowly fading from her cheeks.

"What happened to her?" He is not asking for the sake of asking this time.

"She broke a couple of ribs and punctured a lung. It's bad," she says. "But she'll recover." She looks like she has been to hell and back, and he wonders how many times she has been asked the same question today; wonders if anyone had bothered asking about _her_.

"And you?" It is an impulse decision to ask, but he is glad he does when she smiles, her expression surprised but pleased.

"I'll be fine."


	3. Misdirection

_Misdirection_

It is tradition for Natsu to jump Zeref awake at six o'clock on Christmas morning, but Zeref does not expect him to follow convention this year. This Christmas, he wakes up to the sound of his alarm, disappointed at the break in pattern. It is beyond understandable, with their parents gone.

Zeref gets up, shaking off the image of limp black hair spread on lily white sheets. He takes a deep breath, taking off the shirt he had sweated through during the night and glancing at the rumpled sheets in disgust, making a mental note to change them before bed that night. He showers in under five minutes, doing his best to blank out on depressing thoughts. He almost steps on Natsu's kitten on his way out, with the way he sits in front of the door waiting for Zeref.

The kitten meows, directing wide eyes up at Zeref.

"That's absolutely not fair," he says, as if the cat can understand him. The kitten paws his way to the closet door, rubbing his head against it. "Let me get dressed first." Zeref places him on the bed, much to the kitten's fury. He tries to bite, but Zeref jerks his hand away before he can.

He dresses in simple jeans and a turtleneck despite having no plans to leave the house. After all, Christmas is Christmas, even if Zeref knows Natsu has no plans to stick to tradition. His attention is soon diverted by a car driving past, and Zeref takes a second to observe the view outside his window. He has the best view of the house, looking out at the front garden. Natsu had insisted as a child that his view of the back was better, but Zeref had always been skeptical. Now the greenery is absent from view, covered by a thick blanket of snow. The view is different than usual, however: there are no decorations outside because Zeref's mother is not here to put them up. In the back of the house, there are no snowmen for Natsu to look at, either.

Despite the snow, it does not feel like Christmas.

Zeref had set his alarm for seven o'clock, hoping to give Natsu enough time to follow through if he felt like it. He had always considered it half-annoying and half-comical that Natsu kept dragging him out of bed regardless of how old the two got. Now he misses it, not because he has grown fond of the abrupt wake-ups, but because it is yet another sign of how broken everything has become.

He sets a bowl of kitten food on the floor, cringing at how unsanitary feeding a cat inside his room is. Zeref makes sure to shut the door when he leaves, ignoring the betrayed look the blue kitten sends him. Zeref knocks on Natsu's door, wondering if he is already up, but when he peeks inside he finds the bed unmade, with Natsu nowhere to be seen. Next he looks downstairs, systematically making his way through the living room, into the kitchen, down hallways and past now-vacant studios, both packed with boxes full of their parents' things.

Natsu is nowhere to be seen until he ventures outside.

Zeref feels a pang in his chest when he sees him sitting on the back porch. There is no mistaking the dejected expression on his face. He is still in sweats, not a coat in sight. Zeref wants to usher Natsu inside, but he knows from past experience that mothering Natsu would only make him more stubborn, so he refrains. Instead, Zeref comes closer, waiting for Natsu to hear him approach, before he says, "Let's go back inside."

Instead of complying, Natsu remains motionless, his eyes glued to something ahead of him. Zeref is not sure _what_ Natsu is looking at, but his next words make it clear it is the snow. "We should have built one, at least." Zeref does not reply, which Natsu must have taken as a sign of confusion, because he continues, "A snowman."

"Not with your arm like that." The white cast on Natsu's right arm is turning gray by now, after little over two weeks. It will not be removed until halfway through January.

"You could have…" Natsu sighs. "Nothing."

Natsu does not need to say it for Zeref to understand. He could have done it, but Zeref had never felt like it, too worried about Natsu and all the deaths happening around them. "You know mine turn out crappy." Natsu scoffs but does not move. "Next year," Zeref promises, "but now let's go inside."

Natsu looks at him for the first time today. His eyes are red, but Zeref has grown used to seeing them like that. "Will you be here next year?"

Something about the way Natsu pins him with his eyes makes a shiver run down Zeref's spine, and he has the absurd feeling that Natsu knows—about his depression, about the pills and the parade of psychologists Zeref had seen over the years. In that moment, it is easy to imagine that Natsu is asking more than whether Zeref will be in Fiore next year; easy to think his real question is whether Zeref will be alive come next Christmas.

But that is impossible, so he says, "I'll come home next Christmas, yes."

Natsu makes a sound of acquiescence at the back of his throat. He stands up, prompting Zeref to turn back towards the house, but he halts at Natsu's voice. "Hey, Zeref?"

Zeref looks back at his brother, apprehensive. "Yes?"

Natsu grins at him. "Merry Christmas."

* * *

Breakfast is rather uneventful. Zeref sets a plate of stacked blueberry waffles in front of Natsu, who wrinkles his nose at them. Zeref spares an amused look his way but says nothing, used to it. It is not that Natsu dislikes the waffles, Zeref knows, but more the fact that his brother would prefer to eat meat.

Natsu, cooking disaster that he is, had been overjoyed to have Zeref take over the kitchen after a semester of makeshift food. His joy had been short-lived, however, because Zeref is a vegetarian and Natsu's idea of a fulfilling meal consists of meat. It is a harsh reminder that despite being brothers, Natsu and Zeref see very little of each other most of the time. They have a bond, Zeref is sure, but it is based on family and blood ties, not friendship and common interests. It has never been clearer than now, without their parents, because half the time they end up making small talk before they scamper back to their respective bedrooms. It is sad to think about, but even though Zeref can predict how Natsu will react to things, he does not _know_ him.

"I could have made my own breakfast," Natsu says.

Zeref pins Natsu with an unimpressed look. "No need to burn down the house." Natsu had set a dishtowel on fire last Wednesday, when he had gotten the marvelous idea of making a fruitcake to surprise Zeref.

Natsu flushes, stabbing his fork into his waffles. "It's the cast's fault, okay?"

"Of course." His tone is sweet, sweet enough to be teasing, and Natsu glares at Zeref for it. He hunches his shoulders, tilting his head towards his chest. Zeref has seen the gesture dozens of times, but now there is no scarf for Natsu to bury his face in. His brother bites his lip, poking his waffles with a fork for something to do. Zeref takes a deep breath, disappointed at the change in mood. It feels good to joke with Natsu like when they were younger, but such pleasant moments tend to be ruined by the reminder of things lost. One second is spent laughing and bonding, and the next the two of them are drifting apart again, separated by mutual guilt and all the baggage that had accumulated over the years since Zeref had been gone.

Natsu shovels down his food soon after, eager to leave now that the mood has soured. Zeref watches him go, a mug of steaming hot chocolate in his hand, wondering if it is even possible to fix things at this point. He finishes his own breakfast in silence, wishing to have something to do. He had read through ten paperbacks in the last week alone, and he has never had much of a taste for TV—which is ironic, because he spends most of his time tinkling with TVs.

In the living room, there is an entire mountain of presents on the coffee table. They would have normally been placed under the tree, but no one had felt like getting a tree, much less decorating it. He busies himself separating the boxes into three piles. A good three-fourths are addressed to Zeref, but most of them are from people he knows very little. He makes a separate pile out of those, expecting to go through them together with Natsu later.

Zeref moves towards the bottom of the stairs when he is done, raising his voice to call. "Natsu!" He hears a door slamming closed not a second later. "Be careful, you have a cast on your arm!" Natsu appears at the top of the stairs, skipping them two at a time, making Zeref's eyes widen with alarm, but he is, predictably, ignored as Natsu rushes past him.

"Presents!"

He makes a beeline for the coffee table and sits down on the sofa, patting the spot next to him and grinning. Zeref exhales, able to breathe again now that Natsu is seated. "One day," Zeref mutters, moving at a more sedate pace towards the gifts, "you're going to trip and land yourself in the hospital for a month." He is concerned but not annoyed: Zeref has started to take every smile of Natsu's as a precious gift, so rare have they become.

"Yeah, yeah," Natsu says, sorting through his pile of gifts to find a red and white one Zeref knows is from Lucy. "Give me a break on _Christmas_." He reads the card with all the attention of a student reading a cheat sheet, and attempts to unwrap the gift with care, but there is little he can do with only one hand available.

Zeref watches him struggle with the wrapping paper with a smug look on his face. Natsu glares at him, pushing the box into Zeref's hands. "Don't just sit there."

"Why? Can't you rip the paper yourself?" Zeref tilts his head as he takes his seat, playing dumb.

Natsu tsks, looking away. Taking pity on him, Zeref makes quick work of the wrapping, showing Natsu the book. "What could my darling love have gotten me this year? Ah, just a book, for my lady knows I need to expand my vocabulary." Zeref raises a hand to his forehead. "So considerate, my darling love."

Natsu, who colors a shade paler than a tomato, does his best to ignore him while he moves on to another gift. With his good arm, he throws a purple package at Zeref, who catches it with ease. They settle into a smooth rhythm of oohing and ahhing as they do every Christmas. It comes naturally to Natsu, but Zeref does it because it is what people do on Christmas. In reality, there are few things that can make Zeref genuinely happy anymore.

"Oh, this one's from Gray," Natsu shows him a white envelope while tearing at the flap. When he succeeds in tearing it, he gasps at what is inside. "He got me tickets!" He waves two strips of paper in front of Zeref's face. "To The Starks' concert." Zeref leans away from the tickets, handing Natsu his next present. "I thought he didn't like them?" While Zeref himself is tightlipped about his personal life, Natsu never hesitates to tell him about his friends, and he therefore has a treasure trove of details most other people would not have bothered to remember. Zeref holds out his hand for the slips of paper, and places them on the coffee table when Natsu gives them to him.

"He's friends with the vocalist." Natsu throws the torn envelope to the side, where there is a mess of discarded bows and wrapping paper. Zeref's side is much neater, balled-up wrapping paper sitting in a pile, ready to be thrown away. "This one's from Fernandes." Natsu passes Zeref a small rectangular box wrapped in blue and green paper. Natsu leans in, curious, because Jellal's gifts are always a prototype of something soon to be released by Sorciere.

The box is simple, with only the company's witch logo decorating it. Inside is a thin slab of black, but despite the curved edges, it is not very impressive. Natsu takes a beat to say, "It looks just like Meteor."

Zeref turns it around in his hand, noting how much heavier and thicker than the iMeteor it is. "I think it's a phone."

Natsu raises his eyebrows. "Is it?" He eyes the small booklet at the bottom of the box. "Yeah, it's a phone."

Zeref shrugs. "I'll play with it later. Jellal will be calling soon to see if I like it." He knows because it happens every year. Zeref picks up a box to his right, hesitating before giving it to Natsu. "This one's mine."

Natsu unwraps it with more care, but this _is_ Natsu, and even his best attempt at being careful results in paper strewn everywhere. Beautifully arranged inside the box is a snow white scarf, just like the one he had worn daily before it had gotten torn in the car wreck. Natsu raises it from the bed of tissue paper, looking like he has seen a ghost. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out before he closes it.

Zeref places his hand on Natsu's shoulder, squeezing. "It's not Mom's," Zeref says,"but I know a very nice designer in Alvarez, and she agreed to make one like it."

Natsu nods, still staring at the scarf. "Thanks," he says, his voice thick.

He blinks, and Zeref turns away, taking this as his cue and standing up. "Give me a sec." He takes his time walking up the stairs, hoping to give Natsu time to put himself together. The cat, who is playing with his bedsheets, looks up at his entrance. Zeref gathers him in his arms amidst a lot of meowed protests, which fade away when Zeref carries him out of the bedroom. He purrs, his tail swishing against Zeref's forearm. Natsu is sniffling, scarf now wrapped around his neck, when Zeref enters the living room.

"You okay?"

Natsu nods, clearing his throat. "Yeah, what did you…?" Natsu's mouth falls open when he sees the cat. "Is that… is that a…" Natsu gapes at Zeref, who smirks at his brother's reaction.

"A cat, yes."

Natsu jumps up from the sofa, running at Zeref. "Natsu, _no_ ," Zeref says, backing away and no longer amused, but Natsu tackles him to the ground, the poor kitten hissing between the two before Natsu takes him off Zeref's hands.

"You got me a cat!" Natsu screams.

Zeref groans, rubbing at the back of his head, which had gotten slammed against the floor. "The things I do for you." The blue cat, meanwhile, purrs as Natsu scratches his ears, his tail brushing against Zeref's cheek, tickling.

* * *

The next day, Natsu swallows down two pills and pulls up a a blanket over himself, legs squished against one of the backseat doors. Zeref tsks from his own seat behind the wheel, eyes roving over the cat carrier next to him. Happy meows from behind the bars, but Zeref nods, assured there will not be any problems during the drive to Crocus.

Natsu had no been amused when Zeref had told him they would be driving the whole trip instead of going by plane, but air travel is difficult these days. The plane that had delayed news of their parents' deaths two weeks ago had not just crashed: it had been hijacked. The national security bureau had released no information on the who or why of the matter despite pressure from the public, and so speculation had taken to running rampant, leaving airports empty and roads congested.

As a result, Natsu had chosen to sleep off the trip, leaving Zeref to grind his teeth in the face of traffic. Regardless, eight hours later finds Zeref pulling into the underground parking lot of Natsu's apartment complex, shaking his brother awake as he unloads their luggage from the trunk.

"I'm cranky and hungry, so please get up."

Natsu yawns, deliberately stretching his arms above his head, shooting Zeref a bright grin, no doubt pleased to see his frazzled appearance. "That was the most pleasant drive in my life." Zeref contemplates yanking him out of his seat by his good arm, but he decides fair is fair, given that Zeref had gotten his way in driving instead of flying.

The apartment is dusty after weeks of their absence, but Natsu doesn't seem to mind as he turns on the TV. "I'm ordering pizza!"

"Vegetarian," Zeref says, opening the door to the third bedroom. It is empty and downright sad, but he will be staying here for the next week or so.

Natsu grumbles behind him, "You're not a rabbit!"

Zeref turns around, hands on his hips. "Humans are herbivores, not carnivores. You could use some lettuce in your life."

Natsu rolls his eyes. "You've made me eat enough green stuff to last me a lifetime," he sighs, "but fine, have it your way."

Zeref ignores him, his mind elsewhere. Cringing at the fine layer of dust over every single piece of furniture, he contemplates whether he should break out the vacuum cleaner before or after dinner. He decides to start sooner rather than later, and by the time the pizza arrives, he has already stripped the sheets and put them inside the washer, all too aware that he had never changed them before leaving Crocus.

They eat dinner while watching some overrated action movie, talking over the boring parts.

"We should go visit Juvia sometime," Zeref says, grimacing at the female sidekick. "That's horrid character development."

Natsu shrugs. "You have unreasonable standards." Zeref tries to protest but Natsu chooses that moment to steal the last slice of Zeref's pizza. Zeref glares at him.

"What? I thought you said I need more lettuce in my life?"

Zeref scoffs, letting it go. "I'm going to swing by the Ethereas offices tomorrow but I'm going to the hospital after. You coming?"

Natsu shakes his head. "I want to see Lucy. You can come with me," Natsu offers.

Zeref is not sure if he is being polite or if this is another matchmaking bid of Natsu's. "No thanks."

"You don't know Lucy all that well and I figured you could get to know her better…" Zeref looks at Natsu, noting the strained voice, frowning at the pinched look of his face.

"Maybe another time." The way Natsu's face falls is almost enough to make Zeref take it back, but he bites his lip, not understanding Natsu's desperation. He remains on guard, unable to trust him after what he had pulled with Mavis.

The rest of the night is spent in stony silence before Zeref goes to sleep, leaving Natsu to his own devices, given that he had spent the whole afternoon napping.

He wakes up refreshed, early enough to go grocery shopping before Natsu wakes up. When he returns, the apartment is quiet, but he finds Natsu dozing on the kitchen table. He perks up when he hears Zeref, his eyes locking onto the brown paper bag Zeref is carrying.

"Did you get me strawberries?" In response, Zeref holds up a box of them, which he had placed at the top because he had known Natsu would ask. "Yes!" Natsu jumps out of his chair, reaching for the grocery bag.

"Nope," Zeref says.

"This is my kitchen, I get to cook if I want to!" Zeref pays him no mind, stepping around him to get Natsu a bowl for his cereal, picking the one with the red dragons on it.

"It'll be your kitchen when you can cook, so when you get that cast off, it's yours." Zeref sets the bowl on the table, next to the carton of milk he had unpacked earlier. "Besides, we both know you only want to cook because you can't do it right now, so let's save ourselves the whining."

Natsu's mouth drops open. "I don't whine," he says under his breath, but the words taper off before lilting at the end, effectively producing a whine, albeit a low-pitched one.

Zeref refrains from laughing, vacating the kitchen. He heads to the third bedroom—he refuses to call it his own—looking for a sweater to change into. The weather had been colder in the morning, but it is now closer to midday. While he will not be outside for long, he always prefers being prepared. His phone rings in his pocket as he pulls open the top drawer. Glancing at the caller ID, he flips it open. "Merry Christmas, sorry I didn't get a chance to call."

"I'm sure," Jellal says, sounding unconvinced but amused. "I've called you dozens of times."

Zeref frowns, "I haven't missed any calls." His goes through the contents of a drawer, fingers brushing against wool and cotton as he pushes them aside. He is looking for one particular sweater—a white one his mother had gotten for him in Bosco. It had been one of the few things he had packed after getting his mother's phone call, although he had not picked it for its sentimental value; it had been a coincidence.

"Really," he says.

"I haven't." Zeref pulls open the middle drawer, wondering if it had gotten mixed up with his shirts. A quick look is enough to discard that thought, because there is nothing white inside. He straightens up, suppressing a sigh.

"If you say so." There is some rustling from Jellal's side of the line. "How's the iMeteor? Do you like it?" He tries to act like it is an afterthought, masking any trepidation with annoyance, but Zeref can see right through it.

"It's convenient." Zeref had taken to using it instead of his computer. "I like the formatting of the mobile layout but it crashes too often." He hoists his suitcase onto the bed, hoping he had forgotten to unpack the sweater yesterday, but the inside of it is empty.

"Some testers have reported interference during calls."

"Calls are fine if I make them. I haven't gotten any, though. Were you calling over me over there?"

There is a minute of silence. Zeref is all too aware that the iSorcieres, which had been thought of as a grand success by most, are a massive source of frustration for Jellal, because his initial design had been that of a phone, not a music player. He lays down on the bed, giving up on finding the sweater for now. "Maybe it has something to do with the area you're in."

Zeref nods. "Perhaps." A software flaw is far more probable, but he will not say that. He can understand Jellal's disappointment all too well: Zeref had been working on an advanced search engine for years now, and while the results had satisfied everyone—from the top branch to the greenest engineer—Zeref had found it lacking and far too similar to the others already in the market.

"I guess I'll take a look at it when I visit Alvarez. I'll see about the software meanwhile." Jellal sighs, and Zeref is puzzled over whatever has him so stressed.

"I have a favor to ask." Zeref grimaces at his own lack of subtlety, but he has little patience for pleasantries these days, what with everything requiring his constant attention. "I need a bodyguard."

"Just one? I can put you in contact with the head of Sabertooth," Jellal speaks of the Boscian agency that handles his own security, "but I'd recommend Redfox if he's available. He's very good, especially if you want him to work alone."

"Thanks," he says.

The conversation soon devolves into everyday talk. Jellal's holidays had consisted of taking care of his pregnant wife's whims. "Erza keeps trying to get me to eat fish and peanut butter. It's disgusting."

"When's she due?" Zeref says, shuddering at the thought of having to take care of a newborn.

"Late March."

"You can look forward to the diapers," Zeref says before he mutters his goodbye. Zeref gets off the bed, exiting the room, catching a glimpse of Natsu, still in the kitchen. "Have you seen a white sweater around here?" He asks because Natsu had taken to doing most of the laundry.

Natsu shakes his head, not looking up from his breakfast. He has a vacant expression that worries Zeref, but he does not want to pry more than he has to. Zeref heads down the hallway towards the laundry room. He scans the room for white wool, but there is nothing on sight.

To his right, there is a small pile of socks on top of the washer—which he finds odd, given the number of them—and although he knows it cannot be there, Zeref checks for the sweater anyway. He goes through them in a rush, irked to be touching dirty socks to put his mind at ease, until his hand touches something wet.

Zeref closes his eyes and counts to ten, mentally cursing his obsessive nature, and opens his eyes to see a blood-stained white sock. He frowns, his heart speeding up, disturbed to see blood at all. His first thought is to worry, thinking that maybe Natsu had cut himself on something yesterday and had used the sock to wipe it. Resolving to remind Natsu that used socks are unsanitary items to use to wipe at wounds, he bites his lip when he spots a white sock matching the one in his hand, just as bloody.

He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, as he picks a sock at random—one of the many red ones in the pile. This one is dry, but Zeref looks at it closer, turning it every which way in the soft light streaming through the window, until he spots the faded outline of a stain, invisible on the red cloth.

"Okay," he says. "Okay." He goes through the socks, one by one, his breathing becoming labored as he spots bloodstains on every one of them, even the ones he had discarded already. "Okay," he sobs, certain that Natsu is _cutting_.

* * *

Come New Years' Eve, Zeref finds himself in front of an imposing three-storied house, Natsu smiling beside him. Mavis opens the front door a minute later, allowing them inside. The foyer is done up in faux brick, black lacquered wood beneath their feet and extending out into the dinning room beyond, with off-white walls and plants dotting the place. Soft music streams from the landing above, drifting down the winding staircase to their left. It is, in all, an ostentatious house for a mere twenty-something.

Zeref has always liked apartments better, anyway.

"So glad you could make it." She hugs Natsu, moving on to Zeref for politeness' sake.

"Definitely." Natsu beams. He shoots Zeref a smug look, still basking after winning that argument three days ago, when Zeref had been insisting they spend Christmas at home. Zeref takes off his coat while Natsu's fingers fumble with the buttons of his own, and if Zeref had not seen him work the same coat on and off with the cast in under five seconds, he would have believed it.

Mavis falls for it, though. "Let me help you with that." She is quick, as if she has done this before, and Zeref imagines that the same scene has played out every time Zeref had dropped off Natsu at the Heartfilia Mansion, all preparing for what will no doubt be Natsu's next scheme.

"Those are the earrings I got you," Natsu gasps, far too loud, and Zeref sighs, handing his own coat to Mavis, wondering what nefarious matchmaking Natsu has in mind. Mavis smiles, oblivious, but her brows furrow. "Did you know that Zeref picked them? He loved them." Zeref eyes the earrings, the gold glinting under his gaze. Zeref _had_ liked the earrings, but he had brought them for Natsu to give to Lucy, not Mavis, because Natsu had begged for help looking for a last-minute gift.

"Did he?" Mavis shifts her gaze between the two of them. Her voice is conciliatory when she speaks to Zeref. "I really like them, they were a great choice." Natsu opens his mouth, his grin widening, but Mavis cuts him off with a sharp look. She covers it up with little effort, the hard line of her lips melting back into her previous expression. "Everyone's upstairs, I'll be sure to join you soon." She makes a sweeping gesture towards the staircase. "You can find your way there, Natsu?"

Natsu stares, his smile frozen in place. "Right." He steps towards the stairs before spinning back. "But did I tell you he insisted on buying those?" Natsu holds up his good hand, shrugging with one shoulder. "I wanted to get them for Lucy but _no_ , he… um," Natsu takes a step back, looking past Zeref. "Too far?"

Curious and more than a little annoyed at his antics, Zeref glances back at Mavis. Her face is like stone, her expression tight. "No, that's fine," Zeref settles one hand on his brother's shoulder, getting in between him and Mavis. "We shouldn't keep you, seeing as you're the hostess and all." Zeref shoots Mavis a wary look, but she has already composed herself. Her soft smile is a sharp contrast to the quelling look she had been sporting seconds ago.

"Tell me, Natsu," Mavis says, deceptively serene. "Would you like a drink?"

Natsu shoots Zeref a look, perhaps asking for reassurance that he is not the only one who thinks she is acting weird. "I guess." He clears his throat.

Mavis' smile widens. "Oh, of course not," she flicks her wrist, "so many things could happen while you're drunk. Something like a friend sending you home only to end up at someone else's apartment complex? Because said friend gave them that address and not yours?" Mavis steps closer to Natsu, looking more like she is complimenting his clothes than making the threats she is. "Reasons unknown, no explanation given, probably premeditated because some things are just too convenient to believe are accidents?"

"I don't think this is the time to do this," Zeref says, stepping in between her and Natsu, who remains silent, looking at the floor. The curve of his shoulders reminds Zeref that for all his enthusiasm, he can stand for very little periods of time, thanks to the wounds he no doubt has all over his feet.

Mavis looks at Zeref, clear distaste in the set of her mouth, before turning back to Natsu. "Do you want to want to know what Uncle Jude would think of that?" She raises her hand to push Zeref to the side, but he grabs her wrist. Instead of shaking him off, she lets it go limp. "What about Lucy? Do you think she would be happy?"

Natsu does not answer, prompting Zeref to look back at him. He stands by the doorframe, leaning against the wall, slack-jawed and pale. "I didn't know you were so drunk… I didn't think…"

"That I would mind?" Mavis snaps. Her voice is as cold as the snow outside.

Zeref sees Natsu flinch, his hand gripping the front door's frame like a lifeline. "Please stop," Zeref says, dropping her wrist and putting up his hands. He does not want to touch her or restrain her, but he cannot let her go on, either. Natsu does not need the additional stress, even if he deserves it.

"Why are you defending him? Why aren't you mad?" Her voice cracks, her eyes bright. She is not crying yet, but she looks on the edge of a breakdown, her hands shaking by her sides. "Do you really care so little?"

"No, that's not it at all." Mavis steps closer to him, making him step back. "You wouldn't understand." He is not willing to tell her about the self-harm. It is not his place to tell, and he would not have told her anyway.

Mavis smiles. In the back of his mind, Zeref wonders how she can do that with such ease, when he has such a hard time pretending. "Get out." She says it in such a small voice he does not understand them at first.

Zeref nods. "We'll be going, then." By the time Zeref turns around, Natsu is out the door, out of sight, leaving the door ajar. Cool air drafts in, but he ignores it. Zeref makes to leave, but Mavis stops him, one hand pulling at his sleeve.

"Why did you never want to meet me?" She lets out a sob. He does not want to look at her, afraid that he might feel something about what has happened. Zeref cannot afford to care: he has enough with himself and Natsu, and there is no space for anyone else at the moment.

He tries to reassure her as best he can, though. "Natsu was in his early teens when I left for Alvarez. There wasn't much we had in common and we grew apart. When he met you and Lucy, he somehow started thinking the two of us could make a good couple." He makes the mistake of looking at her. The tears slip down her face, sliding off the dusty gold eyeliner under her eyes, and he feels guilty.

"But why avoid me? It would have been easier if…" She looks at the floor, letting her bangs fall over her face. When she looks up again, she is far more composed.

"No, it wouldn't have." There is a hard edge to her expression as he continues, "I didn't want to get Natsu's hopes up and I didn't want to drag you into it. It wasn't personal." Mavis gives a humorless chuckle. "It wasn't you."

"Oh? It was you, then?" He opens his mouth, but she stops him. "Nevermind, Natsu's waiting for you outside. You should go."

Zeref searches for something to say, not wanting to end things in such a bad note. "I'm sorry."

"Of course," she says, infuriatingly polite. "Have a good year."

Mavis shuts the door on his face as soon as he steps over the threshold.

* * *

Back in the apartment, more than two hours later, Zeref and Natsu share dinner in silence. Zeref had planned ahead, just in case something went wrong at the party, and he regards the food with both amusement and apathy. Opposite him, Natsu sits taciturn, his food untouched.

"I'm sorry."

Zeref sighs, setting down his wine glass. "It's okay. Please don't worry." It is New Year's Eve, and yet he cannot stop thinking about Natsu's stricken look early this night. Natsu had gone straight to his room after the two had arrived at the apartment, and had come out wearing different colored socks.

A part of Zeref wants to talk about the cutting right now, but this is horrible timing. Zeref does not want to talk about the cutting at all because he does not want to come clean himself. He had had countless opportunities throughout the last week, but he had never brought himself to do it.

Today, he tells himself it is a bad way to end the year.

But when Zeref leaves for Alvarez a week later, he does so with words unsaid and a promise to return.


	4. Adrenaline

_Adrenaline_

By the time March rolls around, the streets of Crocus are free of snow and ice, but the weather is just as chilly. The wind rushes past Zeref's face as he steps into the building. He shivers when the hot air hits him, and he makes a note to wear a scarf next time he leaves his apartment.

"Discharged?" Zeref blinks at the receptionist. She is a smiling woman who looks far too frazzled to be at the front desk.

Even so, she smiles at him. "Yes, Miss Lockser was discharged just an hour or so ago."

"But I was told she'd be here?" Zeref had been to this hospital once before in January, doing his best to comfort Belno Lockser as her daughter laid comatose on the bed between them. The lobby lacks the Christmas decorations from last time, and it makes the place look far more impersonal. Zeref has always disliked hospitals, had always hated visiting his dad at work. "Mrs. Lockser said she wanted to see me."

Or her assistant had. Zeref had agreed, curious as to why she wanted to see him and no one else, considering she had never liked him. As a child, the woman had called him a moody brat as a joke, and he had never forgiven her for it.

"I'm afraid they're long gone, sir," the receptionist says as she eyes her computer screen. "But she did leave something. Your name?" The woman tilts her head.

"Zeref Dragneel." She nods, not even reacting to the name as she pulls up a drawer next to her. He feels his lips twitch, relieved at the level of anonymity being outside of Alvarez brings forth.

The receptionist hands him a white envelope, and Zeref leaves without much fanfare, ripping it open on his way to his car. Inside is a simple sheet of paper, METALICANA scrawled on the back. He frowns, the unfamiliar name giving him pause for a second before he unfolds it with a shrug. Merely peculiar, he thinks, until he turns over the paper.

It is not a letter, as Zeref expects, but a sketch. She is a woman with high cheekbones and thin hair, and although her image is done in charcoal, he remembers the russet hue of her skin, framed by the mourning black that is proper for funerals. This same woman had claimed to know his mother last January, when she had shown up at his parents' wake.

Zeref had not given her much thought back then, but his blood runs cold when he spots a second piece of paper—nothing more than a scrap—still inside the envelope.

 _Help me._

* * *

Less than a day later, Zeref meets Brandish at the airport, a smattering of tired-looking engineers dragging their feet behind her.

"So this is it, this is where you grew up?" She takes off her sunglasses, flicking her hair back as she does so. "It's hardly impressive." She is not loud by any means, but a couple to her right hears her and glares.

"I didn't grow up in the airport," Zeref shoots back, taking one of her suitcases from Brandish's overworked assistant. Some of the engineers make a half-hearted attempt to straighten up when they notice him, but Zeref knows most of them are beyond caring after such a long flight in Brandish's infuriating presence.

Brandish tsks before she updates him on the current state of the Visterion offices. "People are taking the move quite hard," she says, "but at least Dimaria is staying away." She huffs and mutters something that sounds like 'good riddance.'

Zeref keeps quiet, having years ago grown used to the two's rivalry. "Inbel?"

Brandish narrows her eyes, pouting. The click-clacking of her boots becomes louder as she half-stomps her feet as she walks. "He'll be arriving in a week. It's like you like him more than me."

Zeref purses his lips, not deigning her comment with an answer. He does _not_ play favorites and who knows why the Spriggans care anyway? "Good. Evergreen can see you later in the day." The thought of Brandish and Evergreen meeting at last is part horrifying, part amusing, and Zeref has a vision of the two of them fighting over who got to force him to eat his breakfast.

In the parking lot, Brandish waves her entourage goodbye as she gets into Zeref's car. Zeref drives them to Ethereas HQ, where Mard Geer greets them upon entering.

He smiles at the man, doing his best not to cringe at the gold and red pattern of his tie. "Zeref!" A month ago, Mard Geer would have dragged him around the building, showing it off, but the man has grown recalcitrant since Zeref had made it clear he would be taking over the Crocus offices.

It is no surprise, then, when Mard Geer shifts his attention to Brandish, far more interested in the new arrival. "And Miss Brandish, what a pleasure to meet you at last!" He takes her hand in both of his own, shaking it with enthusiasm. Brandish coughs out a laugh, trying to jerk herself away.

Unperturbed, Mard Geer places his other hand on her shoulder, pulling her farther into the lobby.

Brandish throws Zeref a look over her shoulder, silently asking for help, but Zeref shrugs. Perhaps noticing, Mard Geer turns back, but Brandish's relief is short-lived.

"McGarden!" He snaps his fingers at a small blue-haired girl standing by the reception desk, who looks alarmed.

"Sir?" She straightens up, folding her hands in front of her. Zeref frowns, wondering if he had seen her before, but she is too young to have gone to school with him, and he has not met a lot of new people in Crocus since then.

"Please show Mr. Dragneel to his…" Mard Geer does his best to hide it, but Zeref can see how reluctant he is to say the word, "office." Zeref holds back a snort for politeness' sake, but he cares little about whatever Mard Geer feels about the move. The past three months have been hellish, and at some point he had stopped trying to soothe people's feathers.

When Zeref had seen those bloodstained socks in Natsu's laundry room, he had promised himself he would move back to Crocus. Any attempt to convince him otherwise had proved harmful in terms of career advancement.

"This way, Mr. Dragneel." The girl extends out an arm towards the elevator, but Zeref shakes his head.

"There's no need." He had come to drop off Brandish, well aware that she would want to start working as soon as possible. As for a tour, one glance at a map the next time he visits will be enough to memorize the layout. The girl frowns, so he adds, "I know my way around but I'm not staying anyway. I hope it isn't any trouble."

She looks like it _will_ be trouble, and Zeref makes a mental note to talk to Mard Geer about being more polite to the people working under him. "Have a nice day," he adds as an afterthought, sparing her little thought after that.

The drive to his apartment is short, but to his vast surprise, he comes face to face with Yukino when he exits the elevator. He blinks, eyeing the bowl of ice cream in her hands.

"Mr. Dragneel." She nods at him, austere.

"Zeref, please." He does not question her presence, given that he can hear Natsu's shouting from where he stands. He finds him in the living room with Gray, both sitting on the sofa, playing an indie video game he does not care to identify. They are both furiously pushing buttons on their controls, and Zeref takes great pleasure in sneaking behind Natsu and setting a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Natsu jumps off the sofa, tumbling to the floor in a mess of blankets and limbs. Gray, although appearing surprised, takes his chance to kill Natsu's player before setting down his control, looking satisfied.

"Zeref!" Natsu's scream is muffled through the blankets. To his right, Gajeel gives an annoyed grunt and tears the fabric aside, pulling Natsu back into his seat by the collar.

"Thanks," Natsu hisses, glaring at Zeref. Gajeel does nothing but grumble, crossing his arms.

"You're jumpy," Zeref says with the same tone he uses to spout off facts.

"Of course I am," Natsu breathes out, "you came out of nowhere." He raises his head, his hand tugging at his scarf, climbing back onto the sofa. "It's not like you ever come back this early."

Zeref hums his assent, settling his hand on Natsu's shoulder once again. "What are you two playing?" He turns to look at Gray, whose reserved smile fades after a few minutes of video game discussion. Zeref is terrible at games, but he makes them and knows far more about the industry than most devoted fans, so it takes little effort to hold a conversation about most mainstream games.

Lucy enters the living room soon after, and the six of them settle down to watch Natsu and Gray fight each other, only for Lucy to destroy them both when they are done.

"Do you play?" she asks Zeref, sitting up straighter. He shakes his head, trying to put her at ease by smiling, but maybe Lucy misses it as she sinks back into her seat. Gajeel takes her up on her offer, though, and the next half an hour is spent watching Natsu and Gray cheering Lucy on despite their bruised egos.

He is glad to see Natsu happier than he had been during the holidays, but he finds no comfort in the way Natsu keeps his shoes on while everyone else paws around the carpet with just their socks on. Zeref keeps his eyes diverted, not wanting to look like he knows. There is so much Natsu does not know, so much Zeref cannot bear to say when he thinks of the pink line marking his shoulder, inconspicuous to anyone but Zeref himself.

They leave late at night: Zeref had made it a point to order dinner for them, knowing not a single one of them could make anything edible.

"Tell me next time you're coming over," he whispers to Natsu as everyone else files into the foyer.

Natsu's mouth settles into a grim line. "I just wanted to come over. Sorry if you were planning something else."

"It's fine," Zeref says, because it _is_ fine. He had moved back to Crocus to spend time with Natsu. "Just tell me ahead of time, and the key—"

Natsu buries his hands inside his pockets, balancing himself on the balls of his feet. Zeref does his best to not let his eyes linger, but he wonders if they hurt or if it pains him to stand. "Yeah, yeah, give no one the key."

"Not even—"

Natsu interrupts him, holding up a hand in the universal sign for stop. "Not even Lucy or Yukino or Gajeel, I got it. You sure you want me to keep it?"

Zeref nods. "Yeah, if there's an emergency, just come here right away." Natsu's apartment has good security, but when Zeref had purchased it, his main concern had been its proximity to campus, not high-end security. Understandably, Zeref's penthouse is safer.

He waves at Natsu when he leaves, and once the door closes, Zeref ignores the way the place becomes colder, chastising himself for being emotional. He settles down in his study, spending the night typing in codes and ignoring how dry his throat feels without alcohol to keep him going.

* * *

The next day is peaceful, up until the clock hits noon and Brandish, being Brandish, strides into his office with little thought for his worn out secretary.

"It's lunchtime." She sets her palms on his desk, eyeing the stack of papers waiting for his signature with distaste.

"I'm really busy," Zeref protests, but one look is all it takes for him to give in and follow her out of his office, assuring his secretary he is not mad for letting Brandish storm past her. Once again, he reminds himself to talk to Mard Geer about why most employees in these offices think a toe out of line is enough to get them fired.

"The Alvarez food is better," Brandish says as they take the stairs, avoiding the crowded elevators.

Zeref's hand brushes against the banister, and much to his chagrin, he finds dust. "This place is gross," Zeref says under his breath.

Brandish shrugs. "Short notice and all, this is as good as we were going to get."

He scoffs. "There's a lot of restructuring to be done," he coughs, "especially with the executives. They're not as efficient as they should be."

"Fire them," Brandish sounds bored.

"Give me a month." The fact is people need to go because Mard Geer has been hiring the sort of people Zeref does not want around for the sake of productivity.

They meet a sea of people downstairs, milling around the outside of the cafeteria. The room itself is high-ceilinged and circular, with glass tables centered around the buffet. Aesthetically, it is Zeref's favorite part of the building by far, which is a pity, because after December, he had made it a point to avoid eating anywhere with frequency.

All this to prevent someone trying to drug—or poison—him.

The room is crowded with people in suits, very unlike the Ethereas campus in Alvarez, where the one tie in sight had always been Zeref's. He fits right in, but Brandish, who is wearing a sweater dress and flats, sticks out enough that a gaggle of executives notice them.

"This was a terrible idea," Zeref mutters.

Brandish glances at the throng of people heading their way. "Ew," she says, before walking in the opposite direction, not sparing him a glance.

The first person to reach him is a pretty twenty-something with long dark hair and a neck scarf. "Mr. Dragneel, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." She shows off very sharp teeth, and Zeref thinks this might be Brandish's idea of revenge.

He tries, at first, to convince them he had been planning on taking something to-go, but fifteen minutes of banal conversation later, he sits down with them, forced to entertain them for politeness' sake. There is also a tiny voice in his head that says meeting with them is worthwhile, if only to determine which one to fire and which one to keep in the future.

His lunch is hellish all the same, though, and an approximate five hours later, Zeref's phone rings. A quick glance at his iSorciere reveals a picture of Natsu's face, half-hidden by the scarf wrapped around his neck.

"Yes?" His eyes scan their way through the algorithm he had spent the best part of three hours tinkling with, distracted.

Natsu does not bother with greetings. "Do you know anything about Juvia? She checked out of the hospital and I don't know where she is." In the background, Zeref can hear a ragged voice, but he cannot tell apart the words and neither does he want to.

"What's that?" Zeref asks to deflect. How does he explain that sketch?

"It's Gray." Zeref frowns at Natsu's words, somewhat shocked, because his brother has never been so curt with him before. He almost sighs in relief when Natsu keeps talking, even if he sounds like he is on the verge of breaking something. "Do you know anything about her? The front desk lady said a guy came by yesterday to see her and I don't know who else—"

He breaks off, and Zeref has no choice but to speak. "I was there but they were gone by then." He leans back on his chair, rubbing at his tired eyes, before deciding to stretch his legs.

"And did the receptionist give you something?"

Zeref pauses, examining the length of his office. It is done up in warm tones and much smaller than he had been accustomed to in Alvarez, but it is passable for the time being. He examines the view from his windows as he contemplates what to tell Natsu, but decides honesty is best.

"Yes." The clouds are dark and stormy, which make Zeref feel nostalgic for Visterion's perpetual summery heat as he walks towards them. Rain hits the window in a cacophony of sound, making it almost impossible to see beyond.

"Oh, good." Natsu sighs with relief. "We're thinking this may have been a mistake. The letter was for Gray—"

"No," Zeref says, deadpan.

Natsu pauses. "But—Gray's Juvia's boyfriend, Mrs. Lockser probably left some contact information."

"She didn't." The raindrops slide down the glass, making paths as they glide down. He follows one with the tip of his finger, just like he had done as a child. His mother had called it a bad habit when he had been younger, but she had stopped berating him for it as he grew older and she realized it was Zeref's own way of de-stressing.

Just like drinking had been for her.

Just like drinking is now for him.

"Can we see the letter anyway? She wouldn't have taken Juvia without leaving some contact information." Natsu sounds impatient.

"It wasn't a letter," Zeref whispers. He feels like someone is digging a hole in the middle of his chest and rummaging around. It is rare to see rain in Visterion, so much that he had forgotten what is feels like to trace the raindrops.

It had once felt good, but now he bites his lip, trying to forget the burning at the back of his throat.

"Well, what was it, then? I think it's much more likely Mrs. Lockser left something to Gray, no offense."

Zeref snorts. The sound shatters the strange trance-like, self-pitying moment. "It was for me, Natsu, and I think you should see it too." He turns away from the rain—from his troubled childhood—and continues, "But it's not for Gray, I can tell you that much."

He hangs up, ignoring Natsu's spluttered protests, and it is not surprising when his phone rings almost as soon as he sets it back on his desk, but he ignores it.

It is just as unsurprising to hear his secretary knock on his door a quarter of an hour later.

"Let him in," Zeref orders, and Natsu barges into his office like a man bent on throttling him, Yukino and Gajeel much more sedate behind him.

* * *

It had taken Zeref less than five minutes to realize that his office was not the place to talk to Natsu about such sensitive information, and so the two had ended up in Natsu's apartment, with Natsu draped on the bed while Zeref took the desk chair. His brother is lying down on his back, knees bent at the edge of the mattress and bare feet touching the floor.

Zeref thinks about the lengths he himself had gone to hide his self-harm. Natsu keeps the soles of his feet uncovered but turned away from him, which makes Zeref hyperaware of the uncomfortable way his brother shifts his limbs.

He suspects this is Natsu's way of throwing him off, which tells him Natsu thinks Zeref knows something. This is such a Natsu thing to do, to risk discovery in exchange for possibly getting Zeref off his back. Sometimes he wonders where Natsu gets so much confidence from, but then this is not confidence: it is desperation.

He should have talked to Natsu about the cutting a long time ago, Zeref knows, but he cannot bring himself to. The day before he had left in January, he had stood in front of Natsu's door for what had felt like hours. After, he had gone back to his room and stared at the wall, fingers tracing the scar on his neck as if it could make things better.

There are demons he needs to face before he tries to help Natsu, and then there will be consequences to accept. Natsu has always looked at Zeref as the very image of self-controlled efficacy. Zeref is terrified of shattering that ideal, afraid that admitting it would mean giving into the depression, the drinking, the cutting.

"So this woman," Natsu says, throwing a tennis ball high in the air with a flick of his wrist, "was at our parents' wake?"

Zeref watches the ball. It loses momentum and drops back into Natsu's hand, only to be flicked back into the air. "She was there late in the afternoon. You weren't there." They had both been far too exhausted to stand over two corpses for a whole day, all while people cried to them and asked for details with gossip-hungry eyes.

Zeref had been numb enough to stand it. Natsu had not, so he had left early.

"And now you think she… kidnapped Juvia and her mom?" Natsu's voice is hesitant, but it is not skeptical. It sounds ridiculous to Zeref, to voice aloud thoughts of kidnappings and murder, but there is enough evidence for it to be viable.

"I think she was looking for you." Zeref had known very few of his parents' acquaintances, but the woman in the sketch had stood out enough that he had noticed her almost as soon as she walked in.

Natsu flicks the ball back into the air, but this time it hits the ceiling and slams back into Natsu's hand. Instead of throwing it back into the air, Natsu lets his arm fall to the side, and the ball rolls across the bed until it falls off. "Did she say anything?"

Zeref taps his fingers on the cover of one of Natsu's textbooks. "She didn't seem to know who I was."

Natsu snorts. "Not a techy, I guess."

Zeref musters a smile. "No," he agrees, "but she was very surprised to see me. That means no stalking." Mom and dad had always bragged about him, even when he had been just a thirteen-year-old winning the district's science fair.

"Okay, but if there was no stalking, it means it wasn't personal, and if it wasn't personal, why would she go after me?" Natsu sits up and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it. "Why would she go after the Locksers?"

Zeref frowns. It is the one piece of the puzzle that does not fit, but the woman is suspicious anyway. Better to be safe than sorry.

"I wouldn't know." Zeref stands up, knotting his hands together and raising his arms to stretch. The he leans down to picking up the discarded tennis ball. He makes a derisive sound, resisting the urge to tell Natsu to clean his room.

He places the ball on top of Natsu's bedside table, besides a fragile-looking sculpture of a clock tower. Zeref's eyes are drawn to the frame next to it, eyes widening. He picks it up, scanning the picture. At some point in between the last time Zeref had been in this room and today, Natsu had changed their family shot.

Instead of Juvia's accidentally artful portrait, there is a crisp picture of Natsu, Lucy, Mavis and who Zeref thinks may be Yury Dreyar. Natsu has his arms wrapped around Lucy, who looks mortified as she tries not to spill the drink she has in her hand. Mavis' profile is next to her cousin, one hand covering her mouth but doing nothing to hide her mirth. Yury has one arm wrapped around Mavis' shoulder, a broad grin on his face.

Zeref cannot help but stare. He had not seen Yury in years, and he had tried not to think about Mavis in Alvarez, but he feels a mass of emotions he does not want to think about welling up in him at the sight. There is no reason for him to be jealous—no _logical_ reason—and yet he is. He dismisses the feeling as soon as he recognizes it, half-amused to see something so trivial draw such a distinct reaction from him.

He shakes his head, trying to physically get rid of the feeling. He looks at Natsu, who has a sober expression on his face. He holds out his hand, and Zeref places the frame on it without a word. Natsu drops his eyes to look at it, his face turning grim. "I feel like no one smiles like this anymore."

Zeref purses his lips. He cannot say he has ever smiled much, but of course he has been more miserable than usual the past few months. What is most striking is how Natsu never laughs these days, but Zeref does not say that.

Natsu stares into the frame for a second more, and then raises his head, a small smile making its face into his face. "This is your sweater, you know." Zeref blinks, not following, so he continues, "You were looking for it three months ago?" When Zeref does not react, Natsu sighs. "You were looking for it for hours and you don't even remember."

Zeref scowls. He has always had a terrible memory, and Natsu had always made sure to rub it in when they were younger. "Right," he says, vague memories of a conversation with Jellal coming to him.

Natsu shakes his head but doesn't comment. "But it's this one, I think. Didn't mom pick it up when you were at that fancy conference?"

Zeref shrugs. He had wondered if Mavis had taken it after looking for the same sweater in Visterion, but he had decided there was a higher chance that he had forgotten it in Magnolia. He does not want to think about Mavis at all, and talking about that night with Natsu is just awkward in so many ways. "I don't care," he says, but he _does_.

It matters more than ever before because she is wearing the thing. She had probably worn it when she had left Natsu's apartment that night, and for some reason she had not buried it in some dark crevice of her closet like Zeref would have.

Natsu snorts, sounding like he does not believe a word coming out of Zeref's lips.

To be fair, Zeref does not believe them either, but he maintains a calm façade as he exits the room, Natsu shooting him a concerned look as he trails behind him, tiptoeing.

In the living room, Gajeel sits on the sofa, arms crossed over his chest and one booted foot on the edge of the coffee table. Zeref stops, abrupt, and Natsu almost crashes into him as a result. One glare is all it takes for Gajeel to get a hint, and he drops his foot with an uncharacteristically sheepish look on his face.

Zeref sniffs, eyes roving over the scuffed wood, cringing at the state in which Gray and Natsu maintain this place. While Zeref had always needed to have everything around him be neat and tidy, Natsu had never had such an urge—and neither had Gray, it looks like.

"Is everything alright?" Yukino steps into the room from behind Natsu. Her voice is forced, but Zeref notices the strain under it. She flips her phone shut as she sighs and drops into an armchair.

"Did Sting pick up?" Gajeel says, tapping his fingers against his knee. They are both a nervous wreck from Belno's sketch. It is a wonder Zeref is so calm, but it is not like he is afraid of dying at the hands of a drug cartel.

Yukino nods. "I've sent the scan to Sting, but I doubt he'll have anything for us for a couple of days." She leans forward, picking up Belno's sketch, unfolding it while everyone watches her.

"Metalicana, then? No one's ever gotten a look at her." Natsu glances at Natsu while the two of them talk, finding him looking just as lost.

Yukino tsks. "I don't know about that. I feel like I've seen her before."

Gajeel frowns. "Maybe."

Natsu rests his back against a wall, both feet planted firmly on the floor despite his shaking leg. "Is that her, though?"

"We can't know that for sure, but people will be on the lookout for her now." Gajeel cracks his knuckles. "She's supposed to be the head of a Boscian drug ring. How the hell did a Fiorean housewife get a hold of her name?"

"Her name?" Zeref asks, not bothering to correct Gajeel. Belno had been—weird how he already thinks about her in past tense—an artist, not a housewife.

"Most people know her as just the Metal Dragon," Yukino explains, a grave expression on her face. She folds the sketch with careful hands, as if she thinks it is precious—which it may be. "Metalicana is kept hush-hush by police, but Sting owes me." She sighs. "It's hard to believe that this just fell into your hands. The Boscian government has been after her for decades."

Zeref narrows his eyes. It _has_ crossed his mind that the sketch is a trap of some sort, but it is not like he can ignore it. Belno may have made the sketch, but there is a chance she and Juvia are dead. "Let's hope it's reliable." He crosses the room, taking his jacket from the back of a chair, more than considering the conversation over.

Yukino and Gajeel both shoot up, alarm on their faces. The exchange one quick glance before Gajeel speaks up. "You can't leave alone."

Zeref shrugs into his jacket. "Look, nothing will happen to me." Yukino opens her mouth to speak, but he cuts her off. "I was in Alvarez for months and nothing happened to me. She's not interested in me."

Gajeel steps forward. Zeref sends him a sharp look, as if daring him to block the exit. Gajeel holds his hands up, sitting back down as if by reflex, but Yukino does not waste any time grabbing the back of Zeref's jacket and half-throwing him into her vacated seat.

Zeref gasps, shocked, but she sends him a sharp look. "I'll go get my things. You can't leave here alone."

Zeref starts to protest, Gajeel joining in. "Maybe I should go with him, Aguria. That guy," he points his chin at Zeref, "moves around more than flame brain does, so it's harder to be prepared."

Yukino raises her chin, looking down her nose at Gajeel. "I think," she says, voice glacial, "I can handle myself. Don't let him leave."

Zeref has no doubt she _can_ handle herself as she stalks out into the hallway.

* * *

That night his dreams are erratic, shifting between things that had happened before and things his mind conjured out of thin air.

"A year," Zeref's dad had told him in his dream, sitting behind his desk with his hands in his hair, echoing a scene that had played years ago. "Give it a year and if you don't like it, you can go."

His mom stands behind him, hands resting on his shoulders, but when Zeref looks at her, her lined faced morphs into her corpse's. It is the same as the day he had found her dead, but now her corpse opens her eyes, raising itself on its elbows with a jerk of its arms.

"Come," it whispers, voice like nails on a chalkboard.

"Stop," he says, but no sound comes out of his mouth. The corpse makes to leave the bed. Zeref sprints out, crashing into the nearest room and locking the door behind him.

The bathroom is hot enough that he can feel the moisture in the air, the mirrors fogged up to his left. When before he had been voiceless, there is nothing in the world that can stop the scream ripping out of Zeref's throat at the sight of Natsu's head floating above water dyed red with blood.

Zeref's vision fades into black before it is blasted with light from above. He is tied to a chair, wrists bound behind the back of it, but he stops struggling when he spots the dim figure standing mere feet away from him.

She has her back to him, long blonde hair falling in waves down to the middle of her back. She is dressed in a white nightgown, but when she turns around he can see the blood splattered down her front and trailing down her arms to reach the tips of her fingers, dripping to the floor.

One look at him is all it takes to make the girl burst into tears, her knees giving out beneath her as sobs wrack her body, and Zeref wakes up screaming.

* * *

Zeref is still shaking on the bed when Yukino bursts into his room, a gun held up in front of her. He backs into his headboard, having forgotten all about her, and tries to control his breathing.

She does not lower the gun until they have turned the lights on. Yukino figures out what had happened without needing to be told. He had not wanted her—or anyone—to find out about the nightmares, but here they are. "Is this about Metalicana?"

Zeref does not even have the energy to muster up a bitter smile. "No," he says because he does not want to volunteer anything more. This is embarrassing enough as it is, and he can't even look at her. "Please just forget about it."

It is the height of irony that Yukino ignores him because for some reason people always believe Zeref's lies and ignore him when he is honest. Maybe it is one of those things that make life infuriating.

"We don't know that she's after you," Yukino tells him. Zeref snorts because Yukino would not have insisted on accompanying Zeref if she had thought Metalicana is only after Natsu.

"Okay." She is right, though. Even though he had made sure to never go anywhere alone in Alvarez so as to lower the risk of getting kidnapped or worse, not appointing any bodyguards for himself had been his way of drawing a blank on his back.

Better Zeref than Natsu.

"Do you want breakfast?"

Zeref shakes his head. "I'll make it." He had heard the horror stories from Natsu. The one thing he knows for certain about Yukino is that he should never let her attempt to cook.

She looks relieved when she leaves his room, maybe at the thought of not cooking, maybe at the fact that there had been no intruders in Zeref's room trying to kill him.

It takes him fifteen minutes to get ready, but by the time he is dressed he decides he is sick and should skip work. It is, of course, not so much being sick as being sick because of the medication he had taken yesterday. It feels a bit like a hangover, except it is not, because it is caused by withdrawal, not indulgence.

Zeref had never thought he had been addicted until he had made a conscious decision to stop drinking. He had always thought of it as a productivity enhancer, hut his psychiatrist had said it had been his way to alleviate his anxiety via self-medication. The thought is humiliating.

He had never taken the pills the man had prescribed until yesterday, but he had not wanted Yukino to know about his nightmares, so he had given in out of self-preservation. It is ironic, then, that the meds had brought forth one of the worst nightmares he remembers having.

He tries not to think about it as he makes breakfast for himself and Yukino, but his mother's face haunts him, and in the end he thinks about Mavis, covered in blood and crying. It is the least disturbing part of his nightmare, but she is ever-present at the most unfortunate times.

The phone rings as Yukino finishes setting the table (Zeref insists on that kind of thing all the time). "Can you…?" She nods, wordless, as he brings out the maple syrup.

The waffles are almost done, so he sets about cutting the strawberries. Distracted, he wonders if Natsu is having anything for breakfast, or if Gajeel and Natsu are already at each other's throats without Yukino there to keep them from fighting.

So distracted that his mind does not register he is moving until the right side of his face is pushed against the cool surface of his refrigerator.

"Yu-kino?" Zeref cannot move his arms and what is worse, the body behind him is not that of a girl's.

The man is gigantic, easily a foot taller than Zeref, and one of his bulging arms is holding him down, but the other is by his neck, holding a needle. The sting is sharp, perhaps made more painful due to the way he struggles. "Calm down, kid" the man says, voice raspy and urgent.

Zeref struggles to breathe. "What—why-y?" How had he gotten past Yukino?

He has trouble formulating any words as his mind clouds up, whatever sedative had been in that needle spreading through his bloodstream. He takes a deep breath, stops struggling, forcing himself to remain still despite his panic.

Much to Zeref's relief, his soon-to-be kidnapper releases him, thinking the sedative has done its job, as Zeref had hoped he would.

Without giving himself any chance to hesitate, Zeref jerks himself back, hitting the marble counter behind him. "This didn't have to be unpleasant, boy." The man narrows his eyes at Zeref, lunging at him, but with the last of his strength, Zeref takes the knife he had set down minutes ago.

And plunges it in the man's hand.

* * *

But when he wakes, it is to a cool hand touching his cheek.

It is a struggle to open his eyes, but the first thing he sees is soft blonde hair at the corner of his vision, followed by pale skin and glass-like green eyes.

"Can you hear me?" Her voice is a whisper, a small sound he does his best to understand.

Zeref blinks his eyes, trying to put together a face and a name. Her face is not even clear, either. Instead, she is blurred by the light haloing her head.

"W—" he tries before forcing himself to clear his throat. "Who—?" That, he thinks, must be enough for the girl to understand.

Much to his disappointment, however, she does not answer him. "Natsu will be here soon."

"But who—?" Zeref narrows his eyes, hoping to get a better picture of her. The movement makes pain stab behind his eyes, drawing a groan from him.

Her hand brushes his hair back, but then she takes it away, and pulls back completely. "Sorry, I'll be going now."

"Don't." He almost cannot hear himself, but when he tries to speak up, his throat burns. He settles for watching her go in silence, heart almost coming to a standstill when she stops by the door to glance back at him.

"Feel better," Mavis says, then leaves, and Zeref just knows he does not want this happening _ever_ again.

* * *

 _ **AN:** So is this the actual chapter or in honor of April Fool's…? Hmmm?_

I really do apologize for the lack of Zervis up until now. Next chapter you'll see a lot of Mavis and Zeref interacting, it's just taken a really long time to get to this point in-story. I hope the scene at the end is enough to make up for the lack of Mavis in here.

 **Please _do remember to review._** It really helps me write this story faster and quality suffers when I don't feel motivated. Even a simple "love this" is better than just saying nothing, so if you can, please review. If you don't have an account, you can leave a guest review or if you have a tumblr you can leave me an ask on my tumblr hera-96 about it. Your reviews really do make my day, _**they don't bother me**_ , and I love it when people ask questions about it so you're welcome to do that if you feel like it.

You don't know what to say? Tell me what made you read this story/what you liked/what you think will happen/any headcanons. Tell me how it made you feel, etc. Just don't think that your review will disappoint me or that I don't like knowing what you think. I do, and really, it keeps me going. It's very disappointing to work on a chapter for weeks only to see three reviews a chapter, especially when I look at the view counter and see how many people are reading vs how many are reviewing. I've had people tell me they don't review because English isn't their first language but it's not my first language either so if you can, _please, please review._

The impression I get every time I update is that 95% of people reading this story don't care and don't like it, which is obviously very demotivating.

Just please, if you enjoy this story, make an effort to tell me. It gets harder and harder to write as the story progresses because I have to fit a lot of content in very few words. _**It would really, really help if I got some feedback.**_

Thank you, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	5. Girl Talk Academy

_There are text messages in this chapter. Please DO NOT skip them. They are plot-relevant._

* * *

 _Girl Talk Academy_

The maxi skirt Mavis sets on the bed is a pale peach, something Zera had picked out for her last spring. Faint light filters through the curtains of her room, thus making it visible in the near darkness. Her hands shake as she straightens the wrinkles on it, and she contemplates turning on the lights to chase away the last of her nightmare. As is becoming habit, though, she decides to keep them off. It is willful and childish, but she needs to prove to herself she can make it through this time, alone.

There is no point to running away from her nightmares.

So she gets dressed in the dark, and puts the thousand breathing exercises she had learned as a child to good use. If she rushes to get into her car, well, she tells herself it is not running away. Not quite.

* * *

6:23 AM did you sleep well?

6:34 AM _mhmmmmmm :)_

* * *

Yury catches up to her by the stairs of the Hisui Building. He looks her up and down, checking for injuries. He has always done this, for some reason that escapes Mavis. His eyes narrow as he notes the heavy concealer under her eyes.

"Rough night?"

"The usual." It is not the usual, but Mavis does not want to explain.

Ahead of them, Precht stands by the door to 13C. He turns at the sound of Mavis' voice, grimaces as he holds out her travel mug, floral-printed.

"Sorry." She tries to sound like it, but a chuckle escapes her lips. It is easy to pretend this change in their routine had been a whim. For the past week, she had let everyone assume it had been a willful change in her sleeping schedule. The truth is that Mavis needs coffee and the nightmares do not seem to be going anywhere, and so lying had become commonplace.

Something had to give, and breakfast with Precht is it.

"Yes, I can see how sorry you are." He huffs. Precht tries—but fails—to sound cross, shuffling behind her as they enter the classroom. Mavis shivers as the cold air hits her bare arms, rubs the mug between her hands before setting it down on her desk, next to Warrod.

Yury takes the seat on Mavis' other side, Precht gallantly ceding it in order to keep the peace for today. He has a lot more classes with her, so he does not mind. Mavis frowns at them. None of the three had ever told her why it is so important to get the seats next to her, no matter how much she tried.

She suspects there is at least one crush involved, but Mavis does not like dealing with things unless they become a problem.

"It's due in a month. A month, that's what's on the syllabus."

"The report is due next week," Mavis says, hoping to prevent a fight between the guys. At this, Warrod leans back in his chair, his face smug as Yury gives a mournful cry that draws a chuckle from her lips. "I finished it yesterday."

Precht groans. Maybe he says something. Maybe Mavis herself had been about to say something too, but at that moment another voice cuts through her own. Not in volume, but Mavis would recognize it anywhere. It makes her hands go slack around the binder she is taking out of her bag.

"We're in the wrong building," Yukino says.

"I haven't been here for ages." And that is Zeref, his voice impossibly loud despite all the noise that surrounds Mavis. "Campus has changed so much."

Someone replies to him, but the words are too quiet for Mavis to hear. She considers getting closer, but some part of her brain recognizes that it would look suspicious to do so. Regardless, she turns to Yury to make her excuses—an emergency of some sort, maybe leaving the toaster on at home—when a man strolls into the room.

It had to be the finance professor, of course, because Mavis' life is never fair.

"Mavis!" In that moment, she regrets. She is the girl on a first name basis with her professors, the girl who reads articles in their field for the sake of networking. Mavis regrets it all. "Did you read Dr. Zero Brainsky's article on the state of the Boscian bonds? Preposterous!"

She freezes, but a second later she puts on her snootiest expression and sniffs. There is a bitter taste in her mouth when she says, "Of course, Dr. Zero, what he proposes is ridiculous due to the fact that…" He likes hearing her opinion on things because Mavis goes out of her way to agree with him—not that he knows that.

Mavis would have preferred to listen in on Yukino, but this is okay. She can handle Yukino and she can handle Zeref, but she cannot handle them at the _same time._

It is for the best, she tells herself.

* * *

11:50 AM you seem happy

11:52 AM _lol since when_

11:53 AM …i heard that ceo is on campus today

11:54 AM _oh you heard?_

11:53 AM don't be difficult

11:54 AM _it's genetic_

* * *

It is hours later when Mavis finally spots Yukino.

After spending her free period looking for her, Mavis had resigned herself to going to class, pushing down her curiosity. She would find out all the details at some point, anyway, because Lucy is friends with Yukino. The girl is bad news, but having her around also means keeping an eye on her, and that is Mavis' top priority.

She spots Lucy first. Lots of people greet Mavis by shoving coffee into her hands, but Lucy is the most direct. As usual, her cousin shoves a cup of coffee into Mavis' hands before pulling her down to sit besides her. It is unfortunate that it places her across from Zeref.

"Felt like visiting?" Mavis blinks, but she had spoken without even registering her words. Her concern is Yukino, not him, but of course, his damned presence is enough to throw her off.

Zeref Dragneel is annoying when he smiles. It is not a grin, but a small quirk of lips that sends Mavis' pulse racing because she is stupid, and she has horrible taste in men.

"Yeah, I did."

Natsu frowns, giving her a half-smile that looks apologetic. "He got lost." He plays with the end of his scarf, which Mavis knows he only does when he is nervous. She imagines the three of them in the same room together brings back what she had said on New Years', but she cannot bring herself to regret it. Natsu _had_ broken her trust, what he had done _had_ been wrong, and it _had_ hurt her.

Zeref gasps in shock, impervious to the tense atmosphere. He had spared her a glance, but that had been it: a glance, and it makes her annoyed for reasons she decides not to dwell on. On the other hand, Yukino had kept her eyes on her the whole time. Coffeeshops are no place to have a staring match, but either people do not notice or they do not think it strange.

Like having nightmares, glaring at Yukino across tables has become routine.

"Oh please, Yukino knows her way around just fine." Lucy scoffs, which draws Mavis' attention to her.

Zeref clears his throat. "I know my way around perfectly well." He does not pout, but Mavis imagines it anyway, and clamps a hand over her mouth when she lets out a laugh. "I do," he insists, brows furrowed.

She thinks back on when she had overheard him that morning, when he had sounded half lost. "The Hisui building wasn't even open when you were here." And again, she directs her words at him before she has a chance to pull back. A part of her resents that he is here at all, but she wants to talk to him all the same.

Maybe wanting to talk to him is what she resents.

"The Hisui building?" he asks.

"It's a new building. Business." Lucy motions at Mavis, next to her. "Mavis spends all her time there."

"Really? Did you just come back from there?" His voice is tense, words clipped. It puts her on edge, makes her realize mentioning Hisui had been a mistake. "We could have run into each other. What poor sense of timing, don't you think?" Meaning that he suspects she had spotted him in Hisui.

"Very poor," she agrees. Mavis wants to know why he is so suspicious, why he had jumped and made a connection that is so unlikely. She wants to know what he had been doing in Hisui, what he had been talking about, that has put him in high alert.

There is a pause. Lucy shoots her a questioning look, and Mavis tilts her head to pretend obliviousness. She does not expect Yukino's help, but to Mavis' surprise, she is the one who comes to her rescue.

"Gajeel's taking an awfully long time."

Lucy sighs. "Levy must be busy, with the internship and all." To Mavis' relief, this manages to distract Zeref.

"Levy?" Well, it is an uncommon name.

Mavis makes a show of checking her watch before she stands up. Lucy slides her arms around her waist, doing her best to pull her back down. Mavis is a head shorter than her, so she succeeds. "Oof." She blows a strand of hair out of her eyes, trying to stand up once again.

"Five more minutes!" Lucy says, but lets go of Mavis.

"I'll be late." She motions to her coffee, pushing in her chair with her hip. "Thanks for lunch."

Yukino arches her eyebrows. It makes her a bit sad because for a second she looks concerned about Mavis, but she shrugs it off as she leaves. She is not looking at Mavis when she turns back, but Zeref is, and it shocks her.

* * *

1:06 PM i'm just worried

2:37 PM _i'm fine_

2:44 PM do you still like him?

2:55 PM _not anymore_

3:02 PM you're a terrible liar

3:05 PM _…we're texting_

3:07 PM my point

* * *

Fridays are exhausting. She has an almost full day of classes from seven to five, but Fridays are also Levy nights. Friday used to be girl night, but one by one everyone had moved on, and only Levy and Mavis had remained. Lucy shows up sometimes, but more often than not Fridays are Natsu Date Nights for her.

It is okay, though, because Levy is quiet and more like Mavis than many of her friends. Even though girl night is not what it once was, it is still the highlight of her Friday.

So it is with great annoyance that she hears a _male_ voice when she enters her house through the kitchen, but after a second realizes it is Gajeel. Mavis is just a tad too overprotective of Levy, but she thinks he is nice enough as far as boyfriends go. Mavis had made it a point to be nice to the guy. Unfortunately for Gajeel, Mavis' idea of being nice consists of hiding behind her fridge in the hopes of scaring him.

"And how's that my fault, you prick?" She frowns, confused, but soon realizes he is taking a call, and that scaring him in the middle of it would be rude. Mavis is about to step into his line of sight when his next words, nothing but a whisper, stop her. "Orga should have done his job right, man."

The name sends a spear of regret through her, her pulse racing with adrenaline. Mavis had poured over every scrap of information on Orga Nanagear. She had hoped to gleam something about the man she had killed, but there had not been much. Only a name and some dubious ties to the Boscian mafia, which is enough to get her brain working and making sense of Gajeel's words.

Gajeel Redfox is from Boscia.

"Then you can tell Knightwalker where to stick it." Knightwalker, Mavis mouths to herself. The name sounds familiar. "No, I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet. Rahkeid is always in the way. I don't even know why she was there." Hadn't talked to Knightwalker? _Rahkeid._ _Rahkeid who, Rahkeid what? She has never heard the word._ "No one tells me anything these days so I thought it was orders."

"I couldn't have fucking _stopped_ her, Mystogan. Plus now there's two other jerks with his brother." He snorts, derision dripping from his voice. Whose brother? Knightwalker's? Rahkeid's? Someone else's?

"Then tell her to talk it out with Yukino because bitch is not my responsibility, you ass." There is a moment of utter blankness, where shock runs through her body to jolt all thought aside. Is Yukino Knightwalker? Maybe she is, maybe she is not, but Mavis is certain Yukino is dangerous. The fact that her name has been mentioned at all means that this is not something she should get involved in.

And it must be Yukino Auguria they are talking about. It _must_ be because Orga Nanagear had known Yukino, had talked to her like an old friend before violence had dyed the floor red.

"I'll talk to my old man. See if Rogue can be backup, too."

This is too deep for her, and Mavis knows she should leave it alone. Although her morals rankle, she steps close to the wall and sneaks out of her own kitchen, quiet as a ghost. She demands self-preservation.

Her mind is still whirling when she hears yet another male voice.

And of course it is Zeref, because today is simply not Mavis' day.

* * *

6:23 PM _i don't like him_

6:23 PM _he's a jerk_

6:24 PM _and he's very vain_

6:24 PM _very arrogant_

6:24 PM _he's such a know-it-all_

6:24 PM _zero conversational skills_

6:24 PM _thinks he's so smart_

6:25 PM _terrible personality really_

6:25 PM _i hate him_

* * *

Mavis is by nature a hopeful person, so when she hears Zeref's voice she hopes that he is not alone. To a certain ironic but unamusing degree, Zeref does have company, except it is the last person she expects. He and Levy sit on the sofa, leaning into each other. Levy has the crazy grin on her face that Mavis has learned, from experience, means she has found a kindred spirit.

"He has the book in his office, and he carries it around almost _everywhere_. I think he's taking it a bit far."

"Is it an exact copy? Are you sure?" He tsks.

Levy jerks her head in a nod. "I'm sure. He has other Tartaros paraphernalia in his office. His chair used to be the actual throne from the game."

Zeref shakes his head. "I've sat on that thing, it's terrible. Why would he do that?"

Levy shrugs. Zeref hugs his knees to his chest, bows his head so that he looks up at Levy. Mavis has been on the receiving end of that same look before. It hurts a bit to watch them, to see him looking at anyone else like that.

Uncomfortable, Mavis clears her throat.

Levy graces Mavis with a nervous smile. "Um, you know…?" She motions at Zeref. He has the gall to wave at Mavis, as if he is not sitting on her sofa, possibly flirting with her roommate in the same house she had kicked him out of months ago.

"We know each other." Mavis makes it a point to sound sweet; it is not like she can kick him out in front of Levy. She clasps her hands together, unsure of how to act around Zeref now that he is here, of all places.

"Sorry for dropping by unannounced." He sinks into the sofa, where the simple cut of his clothes looks out of place, surrounded by the upholstery. There is something about him being here that makes it difficult to look at him. She steps towards the mantelpiece, eyeing the plethora of photographs on top of it. In one, Anna and Layla have their arms wrapped around each other, but Mavis' younger self had gotten in the way. Most of the picture consists of blonde hair and one green eye, but when she covers her mother's face with a finger, she recalls little.

"Zeref made brownies, though!"

Mavis turns back to Levy, surprised to see her holding up a platter of something. She takes one look at them before she has to suppress a grimace. "That's fudge," Mavis says, deadpan. She has a strong opinion on the matter of brownies.

Zeref scowls. "They're brownies."

"No, they're _fudge_." Mavis crosses her arms. She is a complete disaster when it comes to cooking, but Mavis can tell baked goods apart. Those are fudge squares.

"Of course not." He walks up to her, taking the platter from Levy and shoving it right under her face. "You haven't even tried them." His voice has acquired a hissing quality to it. Mavis thinks it is kind of hot, but a man who likes fudge cannot be trusted.

Mavis backs away. "I don't like fudge!"

"It's _not_ fudge!"

* * *

7:13 PM _He's also very self-contained for some reason? "nope not looking at you until you do something that makes me suspicious not like i have a thing for you or anything" "feelings what's that a disease?" HOW DO I DESERVE ALL THIS i won't let the jerk get away with this fuck him ok he can keep his stupid sweater AND IDK ANYMORE HOW INFURIATING_

* * *

Later, Mavis walks him to the door, hands clasped in front of her and eyes glued to the floor. It is only when she looks up to find him leaning against it that she remembers the first time she had met him. The memory is blurry at best, more emotion than anything else. She remembers feeling happy at seeing Zeref so close for the first time, and happier when he had kissed her back. Even happier still when the memories faded and left behind nothing but the bubbly feeling of alcohol and soft lips against her skin.

She also remembers kicking him out of this house, though, as well as feeling angry and humiliated. Zeref does not fidget when she looks at him, but something about his posture screams nervousness.

It seems as if the silence is too much for him then, because he says, "I'm sorry for this, I didn't think... I didn't know Levy was your roommate or else I wouldn't have…" He trails off.

"Wouldn't have…?" Mavis does not want to put him on the spot like this, but she does not know what to say, unless she wants to lie. She makes it a point not to do so unless it proves unavoidable, so putting him on the spot it is.

Zeref blinks. "Wouldn't have intruded." He drops his eyes to the floor for a second before snapping back to look at her, the tell of a person trying to look natural despite being nervous. She huffs to throw him off, to see if she is right, and he looks concerned—which means she _is_ right.

"It's fine." And it is, because now she knows she makes him feel things. The knowledge is a lot better than just wondering if he knows he makes her nervous too. "But here." It is a snap decision on her part, to slide into the closet and come out with his coat, the one he had left behind three months ago.

Unlike the sweater, which she had worn an approximate of a thousand times, she had left the coat alone.

Zeref frowns at it as she shoves it into his arms. Then, recognition crosses his features in the form of widening eyes. "Oh." It seems to fall from his lips, and something about the way he says it makes her cheeks heat up.

Mavis clears her throat. "I forgot to give it back the other day…"

"Yes, I can see that." She bites her lip, standing still in order to keep herself from shuffling. "Is there anything else? Perhaps you'd like my scarf right now so you can give it back in a week?"

"Of course not." Before she can stop herself, Mavis crosses her arms. She does refrain from stomping her foot, though. "Let's not make it tradition."

He smiles at her, slow and deliberate. "I think we should."

Her lips try to work out how to say no, but Zeref has already wrapped the fabric around her neck. His breath is warm when it ghosts over her. "You look great in red, you know?"

"I—" Mavis' hands go to her neck, attempting to pull off the scarf, but Zeref laughs.

"I think you _do_ know."

Her mouth is still gaping when Levy comes back inside the house, looking disheveled with bruised lips and rumpled clothes.

"You could look less smug about getting laid," Mavis mutters.

Levy gasps. "It didn't—didn't get that—"

Mavis raises an eyebrow, offering her the platter still on their coffee table. "Want some fudge?"

* * *

9:47 PM what sweater

9:53 PM _screw the sweater honestly ALSO HE CAN KEEP THE SCARF_

10:02 PM what scarf

10:03 PM _it's this really nice cashmere one zeref left me he probably commissioned it from someone because i've never seen the like and i really want to keep it actually but i can't bc i'm stubborn_

10:04 PM "i don't like him"

10:05 PM _hush, you_

10:08 PM _he also likes fudge which is ew can you believe it_

10:09 PM fudge is yummy wtf

10:09 PM _you traitor ;-;_

* * *

The next morning, going back to sleep after her nightmare proves impossible. Mavis turns on all the lights in the house and settles into her study, coffee by her side. She does not think of it as her study, really; rather, it is her mother's, and its interior reflects her tastes as well. Anna Heartfilia had preferred sparse, minimalist rooms and pointy furniture. Mavis had remodeled the house when she moved in, but the studio had remained untouched as a homage to her mother.

Mavis goes through the mountain of paperwork on her desk, then finishes a macro report. Ten mindless email responses later, she takes a stack of books from a shelf, and makes her way through them for what is perhaps the millionth time. Their topics range from PTSD to retrograde amnesia to studies on the hypothalamus. The latter is unnecessary and does not serve her purposes at all, but Mavis finds it interesting.

Fourteen years ago, Mavis' life had changed in two ways. To the public eye, her mother had died, and Mavis had gone from a being an acclaimed genius to a motherless child who had been kidnapped for her supposed intellect. The doctors had said shock had forced Mavis to suppress her memories. Mavis had lost a part of her past and her Aunt Layla had lost the key to her sister's murder.

Those memories had never come back to her, and her PTSD had never manifested itself in any other way. Except for Anna's absence and the routine therapy sessions that plagued Mavis' childhood, her abduction had left no marks on her. The police had forgotten about it while Aunt Layla had obsessed over it, wasting away until her death. Mavis had endured, putting aside every Saturday to look through her books in the hope that she would get a clue to her past.

Once, she had remembered playing with a redheaded girl while reading through a study on memory consolidation. Mavis knows it works, but today she feels nothing, recalls nothing, and leaves for breakfast disappointed.

* * *

7:05 AM I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T LET HIM GET AWAY WITH IT

8:43 AM _…?_

8:43 AM DON'T GO OUT WITH HIM THIS IS BAD FOR MY HEALTH

8:43 AM WHY DO YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME

8:44 AM _are you glued to your phone_

8:44 AM ONLY ON SPECIAL OCCASIONS LIKE THIS ONE

8:45 AM _WHO told you I was going out with him?_

8:46 AM PEOPLE TALK

8:47 AM _i see but who specifically_

8:47 AM _you don't have to keep tabs on me like this_

8:49 AM it's for your own good

* * *

Lucy is sitting in the dining hall by the time Mavis comes down. She looks chipper and more alive than she has a right to this early in the morning. She turns at Mavis' entrance, narrows her eyes as Mavis comes up behind her and takes the seat next to her.

"Is it true Levy's with Gajeel?" It is a stage-whisper, so it carries through the house. From behind them, Mavis hears a familiar yelp.

Zera comes barreling into the room. "She's _what?_ "

"You're here," Mavis says, almost dropping the croissant in her hand. Lucy shoots her a discomfited look, so Mavis makes it a point to spread more marmalade on it. It proves to be too much for Lucy, who looks away.

"Ugh," is the only thing she says.

"Who's Gajeel? Who's Gajeel? Who's Gajeel?" Zera takes the other chair next to Mavis. When she does not answer her, she swats her arm. "Who's Gajeel?!"

"You see." Lucy brandishes her butter knife in a circle. "Gajeel is Zeref's bodyguard."

Zera gasps. "Zeref? _The_ Zeref?" She looks to Mavis for confirmation, who shrugs. Zera narrows her eyes at the casual gesture.

"How come he's with Zeref now, though? I thought he was with Natsu?" She had wondered yesterday too, but had assumed it would be temporary.

Lucy coughs. "Irreparable differences between the two." Mavis smiles. "I'm sure they'll figure it out somehow." She clears he throat, turning to Zera. "Gajeel's very handsome in a punk-rock kind of way and Levy's into him."

Zera _ooohs_ while she helps herself to some apple juice. She grimaces at it before drinking some. Mavis looks at her, eyebrows raised. "How come you arrived early?" Zera is the pickiest eater she has ever met, and there is little in the house that would be okay with her.

Now it is Zera who shrugs. "I wanted to surprise you. Don't get mushy," she warns. Mavis pouts at her, intending to tell her just what she thinks of that, when Lucy cuts her off.

"Mavis?" Lucy's voice is as sweet as the marmalade on Mavis' croissant. "I also heard you were getting cosy with a certain someone?"

"She _what?_ " Zera says, for the second time that day. Mavis tries to kick Lucy underneath the table, but her cousin avoids it with ease. Mavis huffs, resigning herself to a day of girlish meddling and rampant matchmaking.

"Well," Lucy says, stretching out the ls. "Natsu found out about Gajeel and Levy from Zeref, I think? Probably complaining about all the cutesy stuff, but that's not the juicy part so anyway." Zera makes a gesture for Lucy to go on. "Gajeel didn't appreciate that so he said Zeref was flirting with you…?" She directs her question at Mavis.

Zera taps her fingernails against the table. "The Zeref, though? Really?" Lucy grins at Zera, who snorts. "Dreams do come true, huh?" They both send Mavis lewd smirks.

Mavis covers her face. "Stop!" It is, of course, hard to take her seriously when she dissolves into giggles alongside them.

"I don't know." Mavis _does_ know. It feels good to know Levy and Gajeel are a thing, that all the possible flirting she had seen yesterday had been produced by her own mind. It is so strange to think that she has not dreamed this up.

But with a pang, she remembers what she had heard Gajeel say. _Orga should have done his job right, man._ Zeref himself is not dangerous, but one misstep around him can cost Mavis much more than she is willing to give.

It seems too good to be true because it is.

9:36 AM _i'm not going out with him tho_

9:37 AM _he just gave me his scarf and was like "you look good in red" wHICH IS REALLY EMBARRASING BC HE SAW ME WEARING THAT RED DRESS YOU GOT ME LAST DEC_

* * *

9:41 AM oh good that dress was fantastic

9:41 AM you do look great in red i agree

9:43 AM look, I know you were there when he almost got kidnapped even though I still have no idea why. It's okay if you don't want to tell me but he's just bad, bad news. There are people after him, you don't want to get involved love.

The thing is, Mavis _does_ want to get involved.

The first time she had remembered something from her past, she had been twelve. She had sat by Jude's desk as Lucy's dad tried to teach her cousin how to color inside the lines of a sketch Aunt Layla had drawn that morning. The redhead had been clutching her eye, hugging a boy close. She had whispered something, a name that Mavis had forgotten over the years.

But that had not been the only time she had unlocked a memory.

The second time had been less than a week ago, as she watched as Orga Nanagear's blood pooled underneath him. It struck her then that her aim had been too perfect, her stance too practiced to have been accidental. Firing had been muscle memory, aiming had been instinctual. Killing had taken little effort, and in that moment Mavis had known she had done it before.

"You're going to lie, okay, baby?" Those words are clear as day now, maybe the last words Anna had ever said to her. Mavis had lived by those words for years, but she had not remembered the lilt of her mother's voice or the way tears had been choking them out of her throat. Not until she gripped that gun and pulled the trigger.

Then the nightmares had started, perhaps born out of guilt. Mavis had not meant to do it, but one moment the gun had been across the room, and the next it had been in her hands. She had hesitated long enough to meet Yukino's eyes. Perhaps if Mavis had not seen the pleading in her eyes or Orga's hands clasped around her neck, Orga Nanagear would still be alive.

And perhaps Mavis would never have remembered Anna's words.

2:09 PM _i'm going to return the scarf_

It has been seven days, and yet nothing in the lobby of Zeref's apartment complex looks out of place. Just like last time, Yukino picks her up.

"You're playing with fire," she warns.

"I'm here to end it." Mavis does not look at her.

"That's not what it looks like." It sounds final, like the last words uttered between two women who were once friends. Yukino continues, "It doesn't matter if you like him, it's dangerous for you to be around him."

"Because of you," Mavis reminds her.

Now Mavis does look at her, just in time to see her lips thin into a line. "Yeah, because of me."

"What if I told him?"

Yukino does not move an inch, keeping her eyes on the elevator doors. "I lied for you."

"And I lied for you, too." It is the stark truth. Mavis had grown scared that the police would figure out she had killed someone before, and had asked Yukino to lie. She had handed Yukino her gunpowder-stained gloves, and Yukino had taken them in exchange for Mavis' silence. "You have more to lose."

"There will be questions."

"Will there _be_ questions or are you going to be the one asking them?"

Yukino smiles, and although the sight is usually reassuring, it chills Mavis. "What do you think?"

* * *

2:25 PM you'll move on sweetheart

2:29 PM there's tons of other very handsome men who don't have so much baggage

2:36 PM _ah but can they all explain the law of thermodynamics to a child_

2:37 PM now you're just being picky

* * *

Last time she had visited, there had been no time to appreciate the apartment. It looks bare now, what with all the crystal and porcelain Yukino and Mavis had shattered when they had been fighting Orga. From the entranceway, she can see that a crystal chandelier—what had once been the centerpiece of the living room—is missing. It had been tiered, with crystals falling from it in different lengths, and Mavis is sad to see it gone.

Mavis expects to be led that way, but to her surprise they walk past the hallway. Zeref sits on the kitchen isle, an impressive array of cakes surrounding the laptop in front of him. He looks up when they enter.

"I'll be in the next room," Yukino tells him. She sends him some sort of meaningful look, and Zeref nods, then motions for Mavis to sit. She remains standing, however, because she does not intend to stay long.

He takes one look around himself, then grows a bit red. "Would you like some cake? I was, um, I was… Would you like some cake?" Mavis clears his throat. She has never seen him blush, but it makes him look less intimidating, less somber. More like someone she wants to spend her afternoon talking to.

"It's okay, I'm just passing by." Mavis feels nervous, for some reason. She reminds herself that this is for the best. "I just came to return this." There is no space on the isle to set down the paper bag she carries, so she holds it out to him, waits until he takes it from her.

Zeref does not look surprised when he takes the scarf out of the bag. "I thought you'd keep it for a couple of months."

Mavis figures he expects her to stammer and blush at his words, but she has done enough of that. "I did say I didn't want to make it tradition." And even if she had felt embarrassed, he had shown yesterday that he does not feel as unperturbed as he looks around her. He may be better that her at hiding whatever he feels, but he does feel something.

Zeref does not say anything for the longest time, but he looks her in the eyes when he says, "Is this a no?"

She understands. "Yes, it's a no." A no to whatever complicated relationship they could have if they follow down this route. A no to spending time together, to going out, to making something out of what they have, violent and erratic as it has been until now. "It's a no." Mavis takes a deep breath.

Zeref looks away. "Can I ask why?" It surprises Mavis that he even bothers to ask. It should be obvious that it is because he has a mark on his back. It dawns on her, though, that she has left him without a second glance twice already. She likes him, and to her it is obvious, but maybe to him it is not.

Mavis thinks back on what Lucy had said that morning. "Irreparable differences." It is a tactful way to make him think she does not like him like that.

"Irreparable," he whispers under his breath. He does not look at her, but Mavis gets the sense that she is meant to hear him. "Okay."

"Okay?" This is such a big moment, or at least it feels like it. Like something she will remember in three years, and know the exact words that ran through her head. She hopes it will feel less like a mistake in the future.

"Yeah." He finally meets her eyes. "I'm good at letting go."

That hurts a bit, but it is… okay. She had been the one to reject him, after all.

Mavis does not want this to be the end, but it has to be. He is involved in something much bigger than either of them, and even though she wants to know more about her past, she does not want the price for her memories to be her life. She wants to hear more of Anna's voice, she wants to know how she learned to shoot a gun, but not like this.

Something in his eyes change then—more the set of his brows than something about his eyes, per se, but it makes his eyes look more alive. "No, I'm terrible at it." He stands up, and although he does it slowly, it feels much faster to her brain. Zeref is not that much taller than her, so when he once again wraps the scarf around her neck, he touches his forehead to hers. "Keep the scarf, keep the sweater. Just please keep something."

She wants to keep them, which makes her say, "That's not a good idea."

"Who says it isn't?" His hands move under the scarf to cup her face, but he makes no move to pull her into a kiss. Mavis' heart is beating wildly inside her chest, and her mind is a frenzy of yeses followed by noes. Part of her wants to kiss him, part of her wants to step away.

"Probably me." Never before has leaving been so hard, and although she knows what she should do, she does not want to.

Mavis is unsure about whether the time that passes is a minute or an hour, but the rational part of her brain tells her that it can be neither. Eventually, he pulls away, his eyes flicking to the floor before resting on her once again. "Sorry. Do you want Leo to walk you out?"

She bites the inside of her cheek. Mavis wants to ask how come he can go from intense to cold in a matter of seconds, how he can let go with so much ease, how he hides his feelings so well and functions like anything that hurts him matters little. She wants to scream at him.

Instead, Mavis nods, which is when she feels the scarf still wound around her neck. Zeref notices. "I'll take that. If you don't want it," he adds.

She raises one hand to it, glides her fingers over the soft fabric. "I'll just go."

It takes Zeref less than a minute to find the man. The glasses he wears tone down the suit, and along with the shock of orange hair, he looks like he has walked out of a spy movie. He greets her with a bow before he gets into the elevator.

Mavis turns to Zeref, touches the scarf at her neck once again. She almost gives it back—because that is what she had come here for in the first place—but it is not fair that she cannot date who she wants, just because he has people after him.

She has one foot already in the elevator when the thought occurs to her. It is not fair that she is forced to choose between her feelings and general safety, but more than that, she knows someone wants to hurt him, and unlike Zeref, Mavis does have the knowledge to defend herself. Leaving him on his own, abandoning him, is _cruel_.

Even if it is the smart thing to do.

It makes her so furious that she spins around, stepping back into the white ice box he calls an apartment. Mavis steels herself and rattles off her number, afraid that if she does not do it now, she never will. She trusts him to remember seven digits, having seen him recite yearly figures with a glance in interviews.

"Why—" He looks lost for words, and she does not blame him for it. She herself is speechless at her impulsivity. It seems Zeref brings that out in her, though, because she is always being reckless when it comes to him.

"You're calling today. Not tomorrow, not in three days. You're calling today."

"Today," he agrees, eyes wide.

"Today?" she asks so that it is absolutely clear.

A smile tugs at his lips. "Today."

* * *

2:53 PM _ok so now i AM going out with him_

2:58 PM the number of grey hairs you've given me in the last two days is exponentially growing mavis

* * *

Her phone rings when she is in the middle of writing up a reply. Sighing through the smile on her face, she answers. "Yes?"

"Mavis?" Zeref's voice sounds different on the phone. It has the static-like quality to it that plagues technology, but it is Zeref's voice without a doubt.

Mavis stops in the middle of the room, gaining her a dirty look from the concierge. "I'm still in your lobby." A laugh bubbles out of her.

"You said today."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_ I'm so sorry for the long wait! I went through a lot of drama and I was unexpectedly busy for a long time, so I wasn't in the right state of mind to write this. (And I had to write an Olympics Zervis AU, I just had to.) I also restructured a large portion of the story, which is why you're now getting more or less half of it from Mavis' perspective. Although I love Zeref, he's too angsty for all this fluff. I hope everyone enjoys Mavis and that the chapter wasn't too confusing? I know this story makes big jumps but I try my best to make what's going on clear. A big plus of making Mavis the narrator is that I get to write about Mavis' mystery friend. I had lots of fun writing the texting and it was the first thing I did for this chapter (and the next, half of which was supposed to be part of this one…) I'd love to hear what everyone thinks the mystery texter is?

I just noticed that I completely missed LMU's first anniversary by a almost an entire month, so. Please ignore my bad time-management skills? I came up with this story when I was looking through last year's prompts for zervisweek on tumblr, but it was originally meant to be a oneshot, then a twoshot, and then it became a 100k monster and I've been trying to keep up. Basically, I got too impatient with the first chapter so I posted it before zervisweek, then didn't finish the second chapter on time for it either. Zervisweek is in a week or so, but I can't refrain from posting the chapter just to meet a certain date. Especially because I haven't updated in so long, and I'm sure everyone wants the chapter right now.

Now that that's out of the way, thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter. It really cheered me up and kept me going when I wanted to completely quit this story. I used to be part of the Fairy Tail fandom on tumblr, and it was very toxic. I spent months thinking I couldn't leave it because if I did I would no longer have the motivation to finish LMU, but it turns out that that didn't happen. I'm sorry for not updating for so long, but I feel like the quality of this chapter makes up for it, or maybe I just feel this way because I enjoyed writing this chapter much more than I normally do. I really love LMU and I don't want to abandon it. So thank you for reviewing, and it would be very helpful if everyone keeps commenting. Even if I haven't updated in a while, when someone reviews about a month or two after I've posted the last chapter, it makes me go, "Oh, so people really do like it!" It often doesn't seem that way when I don't know what to write next, so it HELPS. A LOT. About a month ago, someone submitted a message to a positivity blog on tumblr about my writing and I didn't answer for about a week because I got sick, but when I saw it, it got me writing again motivated me to keep going.

So please, please, please review!


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